Grounded
by Lucilla2
Summary: The sequel to and continuation of my earlier fic ‘Consanguinity’.  The Team helps Sheppard get back on his feet after he’s been injured, with a dose of Shep whump when his recovery suffers a setback.  Gen Team friendship fic, plus Beckett.  Now COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Grounded

FANDOM: Stargate: Atlantis (SGA)  
RATING / GENRE:: T/ Gen hurt/comfort  
PAIRINGS: None (Team-fic, friendship)  
WARNINGS: Set somewhere mid-S3, so there are a few vague references to S3  
SUMMARY: The sequel/continuation of my earlier fic 'Consanguinity'. The team helps Sheppard get back on his feet after he's injured off-world. Also has a bit more Shep-whump, when his recovery suffers a set-back.  
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**Author's Note**: _ This is a follow-up fic to my previous Shep-whump hurt/comfort story, 'Consanguinity'. That fic was about Sheppard being attacked by a wild animal, and how the team saves him from bleeding to death while they're cut off from Atlantis for a time. The fic ends with Sheppard in the infirmary the day after, with the team and Beckett hovering over him._

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'Consanguinity' can be found through my author profile: _

_This fic picks up where that left off and covers how the team helps him recover so he can go off-world with them again. This is still a hurt/comfort, team-friendship gen fic, and has more Shep-whump, because what fun would it be if Sheppard's recovery went smoothly…? ;-)_

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It did not take long for John Sheppard to realize that Doctor Beckett had taken him off the morphine.

He had awakened when the nurses began their morning routine, checking his vital signs, taking his temperature, drawing blood and such. Then they had fussed with the I.V. lines, removing at least one bag of fluid from the pole. He had swallowed the handful of pills he was given, and had inwardly rejoiced when the catheter and tubing were removed as well. Peeing into a bag was one of the most humiliating things about being bed ridden.

After adjusting his pillows and getting him comfortable, they had left him alone.

As he lay there, half-dozing, he knew something was different as the hazy, warm, euphoric, slightly fuzzy feeling in his brain began to fade. And in turn, the aches and pains in his body began to make themselves known again, making it difficult to fall back to sleep. It was not just the wounds that troubled him -- his back and butt hurt too, from the bruises that must have occurred when he had been knocked to the ground by the alien mountain lion. Said bruises which forced him to shift several times in the bed to get the weight off the most sensitive spots.

Unfortunately, whenever he moved his right arm at all within the restrictive confines of the sling, he could feel the painful tug of the newly stitched wounds across the right side of his chest. His left thigh ached where the beast had tried to take a bite out of him, and there were other shallow cuts, such as on his right shin, that were adding to the discomfort.

They still had him on some kind of painkiller -- no doubt it would hurt a hell of a lot more if he wasn't -- but he didn't mind not being on the morphine anymore. It messed with his head too much, made his thinking hazy and sluggish, and although he was thankful he'd had a day to just sleep, as military commander of Atlantis, he couldn't afford to let his guard down for long.

He lay there, unmoving, eyes half closed, listening to the ever-present beeping from the monitors, wondering when the breakfast tray might show up, his appetite returning along with the pain.

Footsteps approached, and he looked up as Beckett arrived at his bedside.

"Good morning, Colonel," he said with a warm smile, slipping the stethoscope from around his neck and putting it in his ears.

"Mornin', doc."

"Let's have a listen, shall we?" Beckett said, warming the metal disk in his hands before slipping it under Sheppard's gown.

Beckett seemed to be in a rather good mood, leaving Sheppard to wonder whether he truly had hallucinated last night's rather personal conversation with the Scotsman about the hazards of life here on Atlantis.

"So… you get a good night's sleep, Carson…?" he casually asked.

There was enough hesitation as Beckett moved the stethoscope to tell Sheppard that the conversation had indeed taken place. "Quiet now," Beckett admonished. "Breathe slow and deep for me."

When he was done with that exam, Beckett stepped back. "Sounds just fine." He looped the instrument around his neck again. "Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a full night's sleep -- when does that ever happen around here? -- but yes I did manage to get 40 winks."

"So then… we're good… right?"

"We certainly are… It's a brand new day. And a lovely day it is at that. Beautiful sunrise," he smiled. "So how are we feeling today, Colonel?"

"Doing fine, doc," he smiled back, thankful that the awkwardness from last night was gone.

"And your pain level?"

"I'm good."

"Really."

The way he said it made Sheppard wary. "Is that a trick question, doc?"

"Not for most people." He folded his arms across his chest. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's happening. Giving me false information about your condition and telling me what I want to hear is not going to get you out of that bed any sooner. Quite the opposite in fact… So, how is the pain?"

"Well… maybe it hurts a little more than yesterday. You changed meds this morning, didn't you?"

Beckett shook his head, sighing. "I knew you weren't telling the truth… Yes, I did change them. I had wanted you to get as much rest as possible, so I'd been giving you morphine. But I don't want to use anything that strong for very long, so you're on a low dose of Vicodin now. But if the pain is too bad, you have to tell me so I can adjust the dosage. Or conversely, I'll switch you to plain acetaminophen once you've healed a bit more."

"Yea, it hurts, but I don't want anything stronger anymore. I may be stuck in bed, but I still need my wits about me, in case anything happens in the city or off-world."

"Lad, none of that is your concern while you're laid up."

Sheppard snorted. "Yea, right. Like the Wraith or the Replicators are gonna take the week off too while I'm in here. In case you haven't noticed, the list of people we've pissed off gets longer every day."

"Then the best thing you can do is cooperate with your kindly CMO so you can get back to work. I'll be more than happy to release you when you're ready, but not before then. But I will do my best to get you back on your feet, and the first step towards that is me letting you out of bed for a bit this morning."

Sheppard's face lit up.

"Which is another reason why I reduced the pain medication. I want you to be able to feel the effects of the damage that's been done, so you don't do something stupid like try to put weight on that leg before I give you the ok. Same with your arm."

"That's great, Carson. Let's go then." Sheppard flipped back the sheets. "I'm sure I'm already losing muscle tone from just lying around."

"I said this morning. I didn't mean right this minute. They'll be bringing your breakfast soon."

He was disappointed, but first things first. He needed plenty of nutrition to help his body repair itself. "Good, I'm starved."

"That's encouraging to hear." He patted Sheppard on the shoulder. "I'll be back later."

--

The crew in the mess hall had gotten in the habit of sending up meal trays for him with extra large portions whenever he was in the infirmary, and today was no exception. Sheppard wolfed down the scrambled eggs, toast, hash browns (or at least what passed for hash browns, made from a potato-like vegetable) and orange juice.

There was also a piece of purple fruit from the mainland and an extra protein bar. He put the bar aside for later snacking.

He was licking the last of the fruit off his fingers when Beckett re-appeared. He moved the tray aside happily, but his face fell while he watched a wheelchair being pushed to the right side of the bed.

"Hell, no, I don't need that," Sheppard protested.

"Yes, you do. I said you could get out of bed, not go for a stroll around the city. It's this or nothing, Colonel."

Sheppard grimaced. "Fine then," he huffed, pulling the sheets off himself again, pushing with one arm, shifting enough to let his uninjured right leg dangle off the edge of the bed. But as he moved, the gown he was wearing shifted too, opening wide in the back, and he hastily pulled the sheets around his waist and exposed backside.

"I need some clothes, doc -- it's a little drafty here."

Beckett was shaking his head again. "No. You'll have to live with the gown as long as you're here. Besides, you couldn't get a shirt on right now if you tried."

"At least give me some damn underwear. I'm not walking around here with my ass hanging out."

"No." As Sheppard started to sputter, Beckett added, "Not until you're more mobile. Clothing just gets in the way of trying to look after you and monitoring your injuries."

"You enjoy this, don't you? It's your way of getting back at patients who are a pain in the ass."

Beckett chuckled as he stepped over to a supply cabinet, pulling out another gown. "It does have its perks." He draped the second gown over the back of Sheppard's shoulders. "I've got a bathrobe you can use too."

He left for a moment, then came back with a robe in one hand and a blood pressure cuff in the other. "Let's check your pressure before we start all this -- don't want you getting dizzy on me."

Sheppard bit his lip to stop the sigh of frustration from escaping, waiting patiently until Beckett had finished.

"Pressure is good, if a little low. 95/60."

Sheppard saw his brow furrow as he glanced between the wheelchair and his bandaged leg. "I think I need someone else here with us, just in case you get light-headed."

The frustration escaped this time. "I don't need two people just to help me out of bed!"

Carson put his hands on his hips and glared at him. "Do you want to do this or not, Colonel? Or are you just going to argue with everything I say?"

Sheppard glared back, and was about to reply when someone new entering the room caught his attention.

"Ronon…! Just the man we need."

At this point, he was almost tempted to have Ronon pick him up and put him in the damn wheelchair just to avoid listening to Beckett's fussing.

"Need for what?"

"Carson here is being an old lady and thinks I need two people just to help me sit in a chair. Give me a hand, will you, buddy?"

"Technically, Ronon's my patient too, Colonel. With those bruised ribs, he shouldn't be doing anything strenuous or lifting anything."

"Strenuous? I just need someone to lean on, not pick me up and carry me across the room."

"I'm fine," Ronon said.

"D'you know how many times I've heard that from both of you? You're daft buggers, the lot of you. You could have your bloody arms chopped off, and you'd still tell me 'I'm fine'…!"

"I thought we agreed, doc -- no more graphic mental pictures."

Beckett stiffened a bit. "And I thought we weren't going to bring that up anymore, Colonel."

Sheppard ignored him, turning to Ronon. "Come on, big guy, help me down."

He soon discovered that getting into the wheelchair was not going to be nearly as easy as it sounded. Just sitting on the edge of the bed with both legs down made the injured thigh throb painfully, and the room spun dizzily for a few seconds. To stand up, he had to put his left arm around Ronon's shoulders to be able to balance on his slightly shaky right leg, carefully heeding Beckett's admonitions not to put any weight on the injured left leg. Ronon was also warned not to touch his injured shoulder either.

Ronon did have to lift him up for a moment to shift him sideways so Beckett could get the chair behind him. Somewhere in the process they got the robe draped loosely over his shoulders, then Ronon lowered him down into the wheelchair with Beckett's guidance.

Everything hurt like hell now, his shoulder and leg throbbing with each heartbeat. Beckett looked up from where he was kneeling as he adjusted the footrest on the left side, raising it so that Sheppard's left leg was parallel to the floor.

"Now do you understand why I wanted to take things slow and easy at first, Colonel?" Beckett said. "It'll get easier fairly quickly, but as long as you can't use both arms or both legs, it's going to be awkward…. Do you need me to give you more for the pain?"

Sheppard managed to smile, shaking his head. "No, I'm good. Piece of cake, doc."

Beckett rolled his eyes. "I don't know which is worse -- Rodney the hypochondriac, or you who won't admit anything's wrong."

Ronon was grinning, and Beckett turned on him.

"Ah, you think this is amusing, do you now? Well, you are still my patient too, son, and you're due to have your own leg looked at today, so hop on the bed over there, take off your boots and roll up your trousers."

Ronon and Sheppard gave each other amused looks.

"Now," Beckett said, going to the supply shelves and picking up various things. Ronon complied, going to an empty bed.

As Beckett started unwrapping Ronon's old bandages, he pointed at Sheppard. "Don't even think about wheeling yourself out of here. Be happy you're out of bed."

Ronon and Sheppard smiled at each other again, Sheppard rolling his eyes a bit. "Yes, Mother," he said.

Beckett shook his head, muttering under his breath. "… I'm dealing with bloody children…"

The infirmary was quiet for a few minutes as Beckett looked over Ronon, and Sheppard adjusted to his new bit of freedom, pulling the robe around him as much as possible.

The silence was short-lived however, as McKay arrived carrying a small duffel bag.

"And it started out as such a lovely morning…" Beckett muttered with a heavy sigh.

McKay stopped, a surprised look on his face. "Sheppard. You're out of bed." He moved closer, eyes narrowing. "Should you be out of bed? You look like crap."

"Gee thanks, McKay, that's exactly what I wanted to hear right now."

"Carson…? Should he be out of bed? I thought you said he was getting better."

"He is getting better, appearances notwithstanding."

"I'm off the morphine today. Yesterday I was too high to care about what was wrong with me."

"Well, you ought to be back on it. Carson, don't listen to his macho bullshit about not being in pain, give him more drugs."

"You're an astrophysicist, not a physician. Leave the medications to me. I put 127 stitches in the man, Rodney -- he's not going to be dancing a bloody jig any time soon."

McKay looked queasy. "127...?"

"Aye. And that doesn't include the surgical glue and butterfly bandages on the smaller cuts."

"It looks like four big zippers across my chest." Sheppard grinned as McKay paled slightly. "It's kinda cool actually."

"Since when is nearly getting mauled to death by a big alien mountain lion 'cool'..? You really are certifiable, Sheppard."

"Can I see it?" Ronon said eagerly.

"Sure, if they let you the next time they change the dressings."

"This wasn't much," Ronon said, gesturing at the re-wrapped bandage on his leg that covered a 6-inch jagged gash. "Probably won't leave a scar." He sounded almost disappointed.

"This definitely will," Sheppard said.

"I'll give you some ointment later to keep the scarring to a minimum," Beckett said. "If you want it, that is," he said with an amused shake of his head.

Sheppard paused, pondering that.

"Oh please, enough with the comparing scars," McKay said. "What are you, five?"

"I guess that means you won't be showing us the scar on your ass," Sheppard grinned, and Ronon smiled.

McKay flushed red. "As if I don't have more than that -- no thanks to you!" he said, tapping his fingers over his left shoulder and the bullet scar beneath. "You shot me!"

Sheppard frowned. "How many times do I have to say I'm sorry for that, Rodney? I wasn't in my right mind."

"None of us were," Beckett said solemnly.

Sheppard saw McKay absently touch his right forearm and decided to change the subject. No point in bringing up the scar left by one of Kolya's goons.

"So what did you bring me, Rodney?"

"What…? Oh. Yea." He put the bag on the bed, opening it up. "Blue jell-o."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow at the clear plastic container that looked like it had flipped upside down a few times, bits of blue jell-o clinging to the top. "And how long as that been in there?"

"I just picked it up from the mess hall -- I had them keep it in the fridge for you." He pulled more items from the bag. "Laptop, PDA, a deck of cards, Sudoku book, toothbrush, and your robe. But I see you've got one already."

"There had better not be a radio in there," Beckett warned from across the room as he examined Ronon's bruised ribs.

"No, Carson. No radio," McKay said.

But Sheppard turned his face away from Beckett, looking hopefully at McKay. But McKay shook his head with an empty-hands gesture, and Sheppard mouthed 'Get me one'.

'I can't," McKay mouthed back. Sheppard frowned, and McKay scowled, nodding his head towards Beckett while imitating putting a hypodermic needle in his arm.

"Rodney…"

McKay looked at Beckett.

'No. Radio," Beckett mouthed.

McKay and Sheppard exchanged sheepish looks, and Beckett added aloud, "Or I will bring out the really big needles for your next physical."

"Ok, no radio," McKay said.

Beckett turned to Ronon. "Everything looks all right, son. Just try to go easy with the sparring for a few days until those ribs heal."

Ronon gave a non-committal grunt as he hopped down off the table.

"I'm talking to myself with you too, aren't I?" Beckett grumbled.

As Ronon returned to Sheppard's bedside, the remaining member of the alpha team arrived, carrying a large coffee mug.

"Good morning, Doctor Beckett," she said cheerfully as she passed him.

"Ah, Teyla, good morning." He smiled back warmly. "I have a question for you, luv."

"Yes?" she said, stopping and turning towards him.

"Tell me -- how is it that you can spend so much time off-world with these three 'gentlemen' and _not _manage to shoot them? The morning's barely started, and they're already giving me a migraine headache."

Teyla glanced at her teammates, then addressed Beckett. "It is often tempting, I admit. But I have had much practice in dealing with mischievous young boys, when I was younger and helped looked after some of my cousins. This is not so very different."

There was a chorus of indignant "Hey!"'s from the three men.

As Beckett chuckled, Teyla smiled. "I have brought some Athosian healing tea for Colonel Sheppard." She held up the mug. "With your permission, of course, Doctor."

"That's fine, I'm sure it'll do him some good." He looked over at Sheppard pointedly. "Assuming he follows the rest of his doctor's instructions."

Sheppard gave him an innocent, puppy-dog look.

"I have paperwork to do in my office, but someone will be by shortly to change the linens and such. In the meantime, I'm expecting you three to keep an eye on him. And don't tire him out -- he'll be back in bed soon enough."

When Beckett had gone, McKay said, "I loaded a couple new games on your laptop, for when you get bored. But I still haven't -- " He stopped abruptly, holding up his hand. "Hang on…"

Turning aside, McKay tapped the radio in his ear. "What?" he barked, a 'how dare you interrupt me?' tone in his voice.

He paused briefly, listening to the voice on the other end, then launched into a tirade. "How incompetent are you people? Can't you manage down there for five minutes without screwing things up…? Oh, yea right, blame your stupidity on me…" He started walking away from Sheppard's bedside and out of the infirmary. "Yes, I'm on my way back, because I so do not want to explain to Dr. Weir why you've blown up half the city…!"

McKay's voice faded away as he disappeared with only the briefest of hand-waves in the team's direction, and Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla looked at each other and chuckled.

As Teyla handed Sheppard the warm mug of tea, he looked up at her. "So… 'Mischievous young boys'…? Is that what you think of your teammates, Teyla?" He was frowning at her disapprovingly, but his voice was lightly teasing.

Ronon just looked bemused.

Teyla smiled serenely. "Drink your tea, Colonel."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

GROUNDED --- Part Two

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When McKay returned to the infirmary, after lunch, Teyla and Ronon were gone, and Sheppard was back in bed, apparently asleep.

"Sleeping again?" McKay muttered. "Guess I'll come back later…"

He had turned away when Sheppard said, "No, I'm not." Looking back, McKay discovered him very much awake but still looking rather fatigued and drained. "I was just resting my eyes."

"You probably should be sleeping though. I should go. Just thought I'd stop by and see if you needed anything else from your quarters."

"Nah, I think I'm good for now. Thanks." Sheppard lifted his head, peering towards Beckett's office. "But you might want to leave before Carson sees you."

"Why would I -- "

"Rodney…!" Beckett's voice rang sharply through the room as he appeared from another section of the infirmary.

"Too late," Sheppard muttered.

"What's this I hear about you not knowing basic first aid, that you should not give a shock victim food or drink?" He stalked towards McKay, stopping a few feet in front of him and folding his arms across his chest, glaring at him. "Do you not pay attention to a word I say?"

McKay turned on Sheppard. "You rat fink! After all I did for you when you were bleeding to death, you just had to rat me out to the Scottish medical mafia and his pointy needles!"

"I didn't rat you out. When Teyla was here, we were talking with Carson about the mission, and explaining exactly what you guys did to treat my injuries in the field. We were discussing how we could better handle it in future, and if we needed to change what we carry in the first aid kit. The water thing… just came up then."

"Oh, sure, it 'just came up'. Like you weren't waiting to tell him that!"

"Rodney, what would you have done if Colonel Sheppard had been incapacitated and couldn't tell you what the contraindications were? You can't rely on the person who's injured to tell you what to do. With that big 'genius' brain of yours, I would think you'd be able to remember these things better."

"So I'm not a walking encyclopedia about voodoo medicine. Yes, maybe I should have known, but under the circumstances, I think we did a pretty good job of saving his life."

"Aye, you did, but -- "

"Hypothetically, what would have happened to Sheppard if we had let him have some water up there?"

"Well, in that situation, with his particular injuries, probably nothing."

"Then why are you raking me over the coals now, if it wouldn't have made a difference?"

"I said 'probably'. Every situation is different, and if there are internal injuries or a concussion, you never want to give them anything. And there's always the risk they can start to vomit and choke on it, even water. If someone says they're thirsty when they're injured, don't just give them water. Thirst can sometimes be a symptom of a bigger problem. Rodney, I know you mean well, but you can kill someone if you only remember half of what you're supposed to do in an emergency."

"All right, all right, I know… I have the first aid manual on my laptop, and I've been re-reading it since we got back. Give me a few more days and you can quiz me on it. Just don't make me sit through another boring class."

"We're all taking another class, everyone on the off-world teams," Sheppard said, and the two looked at him. "I've been thinking about it while I've been lying here. It never hurts to have a refresher course about these types of things. Or maybe we could do some battlefield drills and war games with injury simulations instead -- the textbook stuff does get rather dry and boring."

"That's not a bad idea, Colonel," Beckett said. "Of course, the Wraith and our other assorted enemies keep my staff busy enough without needing extra practice."

"We wouldn't need more than a medic or two, and some guidelines on what injuries to simulate."

"Oh no…"McKay was shaking his head and groaning. "This is not good."

"What?" Sheppard said.

"They're all going to blame me for this, aren't they? The rest of the teams, the marines, when they find out they have to go through extra drills because of me, they're not going to be happy, are they?"

A slow grin spread across Sheppard's face. "Probably not."

"Oh that's just terrific. Guess who's going to be prime target #1 to get beat up during your 'war games'…? Look, forget about war games, I'll take the damn class."

Sheppard shook his head. "We're overdue for something like this anyway."

McKay put his hand to his forehead. "Stackhouse. He's been looking for payback ever since he accidentally fell into that thorn bush."

"There wasn't anything accidental about it. You knocked him out of the way trying to get away from a little bunny rabbit. And it was more than a bush; it was like a big pin cushion with the needles facing the wrong way."

"I didn't know it was a rabbit. Let me tell you, it looked pretty scary when it was coming straight at me through the tall grass."

"I lost track of how many thorns I took out of the lad… in some very nasty places, " Beckett said, trying to hide a smile. "I wouldn't blame Stackhouse if he was still holding a grudge."

"Castillo's probably not too happy with you either, after he got that… sludge… from the sanitation plant dumped on him while you were fixing it," Sheppard said.

"Need I remind you, we _all _got it dumped on us. It took ten showers to get clean again," McKay said.

"Yea, but Castillo got the worst of it. By far."

"Oh god, I'm a dead man," McKay moaned. "I'm going back to my lab, where it's safe."

"For now…!" Sheppard called out as McKay left the infirmary.

Sheppard smiled at Beckett. "I'd never let those guys mess with McKay -- not too much anyway. _If _I even tell anyone the real reason why I decided to do this. But it'll be fun making him sweat in the meantime."

Beckett chuckled and shook his head. "I'll discuss the simulations with you later, when you're well, Colonel. For now, take a nap if you can."

-----

Three more days in the infirmary had driven Sheppard stir crazy -- and driven Beckett crazy as well -- so Atlantis' CMO had finally agreed to let him out, on the condition he stay in his quarters for the next day or two on bed rest.

Being back in regular clothes was a relief and made him feel much better mentally, even if it was a painful struggle just to get into a button-down shirt and a pair of sweat pants. T-shirts were out of the question for the time being, until he could lift his arm higher than shoulder level. It was a bit embarrassing to need help to tie his shoes, but since his body was not very flexible just yet, he grudgingly let a nurse do it for him.

He had wanted to walk out under his own power, but Beckett had refused. Thus, he used one crutch to substitute for his leg, hobbling out of the infirmary with the rest of his team hovering around at an annoyingly close distance, as if they thought he was going to keel over at any moment.

Only being able to use one crutch slowed him down considerably, but unfortunately there was no way he could make use of a second crutch, not without risking tearing open his stitches around his armpit. But trying to walk this way drained his strength quicker than he had expected

However, there was also no way he was going to admit that to his team, or Beckett. And so when McKay asked for the fifth time, "Are you ok?", Sheppard stopped and glared at him.

"Yes, Rodney, I'm fine. Stop hovering over me, all of you. You're as bad as Carson," he snapped as he leaned heavily on the crutch. His arm was out of its protective sling, to help keep his balance, and to protect himself if he happened to fall.

Although he was quite certain that the three of them would be there to catch him before he hit the ground.

"Perhaps you should rest for a moment," Teyla said.

"I'm fine."

"Colonel," she said, in a warning tone that said 'or I'll tell Carson'.

"All right." He acquiesced, shuffling a few steps over and leaning back against the wall. "You all keep forgetting that I just have a lot of stitches. No gunshots or knife wounds. No internal injuries, no concussion."

"No, you only nearly bled to death," McKay argued. "It's not a race. No one cares if it takes an hour to get to your quarters."

"I care," Sheppard snapped, pushing himself away from the wall again. He was nearly half-way now, he was damn well going to make it.

"John," Teyla said again, trying to get him to stop, but he continued on without a word.

"Leave him be," Ronon said, and they all followed him with resigned sighs.

He was sweating by the time he reached his room, and his thigh hurt like hell, but when he thought the door open and hobbled inside, he could almost feel the welcoming embrace of Atlantis herself, as if the place was truly aware of his absence.

"At last," he muttered, pausing just inside the doorway. He set the crutch aside, propping it against the wall, and limped over to his bed. He sat down, kicked his shoes off and lay down, pulling his legs up onto it.

"Home sweet home," he breathed as he laid his arm across his eyes, blocking out the late-afternoon sun that was streaming in the windows.

Teyla closed the curtains enough to get the sun off his face, then set down the small pouch of bottles of medication on the nightstand. "Carson said it would be okay to take another pain pill when you arrived here, if your stitches are bothering you too much."

He was sore as hell, and the pills were only extra strength Tylenol now, but still he shook his head. "Nah, maybe later."

McKay rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath about pig-headed Colonels, and pulled a table closer to the bed. "You're supposed to rest, but I doubt you're actually going to do it now, so here's your stuff." He laid out Sheppard's laptop, PDA, puzzle books and 'War & Peace'. Then he picked up an earpiece radio from the desk and handed it to him. "I assume you want this too."

"Dr. McKay -- " Teyla began.

"What? Like he wouldn't have grabbed it himself?"

"Thank you, Rodney. You read my mind," Sheppard smiled as he slipped it around his ear. "I almost feel naked without it."

"Just don't start answering it yet, or Elizabeth and Carson will be here to confiscate it. Or cut off your access to everything except the emergency channels," McKay warned.

"Fine. I'll only talk to you guys."

"Lucky us," McKay snarked.

"You need anything?" Ronon asked.

"Yea," Sheppard said as he ran his hand over his stubbled face. "A shave. And a shower. I probably stink, and it feels like I've got medical gunk all over me."

"And yet, amazingly, your hair still defies gravity," McKay smirked.

"Ha ha," Sheppard said, fighting back a yawn.

"We will leave if you need to rest," Teyla said. "But one of us can bring you dinner later."

Sheppard was torn between wanting to be left alone… and not wanting to be left alone. "Stay if you want. I'm in no mood to sleep just yet."

Ronon sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, reaching into his pocket for something. "You do stink," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"I guess that shower is first on my list of things to do."

"Carson said you can't take one unsupervised, not yet," McKay said. "And you're not supposed to get the bandages wet anyway, so what's the point of trying, because you'll just end up back in the infirmary to get the dressings changed."

"I'm not crippled, and I don't need a nursemaid anymore. I'll be fine on my own."

McKay snorted. "Who are you kidding? You can hardly walk… Look, I don't want to get blamed if you fall and crack your head open, or tear some stitches. And he will blame me and break out the big needles."

"Your concern for my health is underwhelming, McKay."

He turned as Ronon dangled something in front of his face.

"Here," he said. "It's yours, Sheppard."

It took a few moments to realize what it was. Hanging at the end of a circle of leather cord, strung through a hole drilled through it, was a curved piece of bone.

No, not bone…

He drew a slow breath. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What?" McKay leaned in, brow furrowed. Then his eyes widened, as did Teyla's. "Oh, god, tell me you didn't…"

Ronon nodded. "Beckett let me take a claw once he was done analyzing what we brought back from the animal. Figured you might want it."

He pushed himself up into a sitting position -- with a little help from Teyla -- taking the claw from Ronon, holding it in his hands. It was nearly four inches long, an inch wide at the top, tapering down quickly into a wicked-looking hook, the tip uncomfortably sharp. He could almost feel his chest tighten at the memory of what four of these claws had done to his body.

He also understood much more clearly why Beckett had been so upset that night in the infirmary, and how much worse his injuries could truly have been.

"And you thought I would want this… why?" he asked Ronon, eyebrow raised.

"It's dead," Ronon said, as if that were enough of an explanation.

"But people usually keep these things as trophies." The Wraith bones around Ronon's neck certainly qualified as such. "I didn't kill it -- you did. You should be the one that keeps it."

"It's dead. You're alive. You should celebrate that."

It actually kinda made sense. In a strange sort of way.

"In other words… That which does not kill us makes us stronger."

Ronon nodded.

McKay had been staring open-mouthed at it, and finally said, "Oh, that's just wrong. Why the hell would he want to be reminded of how he was attacked?"

Ronon looked offended.

"McKay," Sheppard sighed, shooing him away with a wave of his hand. "Ronon, what McKay means is that it isn't exactly traditional for us to … celebrate… something like this in quite this way. And it's non-regulation when I'm on duty." Ronon still looked insulted, and Sheppard hastily added, "But I appreciate the honor, since you were well within your rights to keep it yourself."

He slipped the cord over his head and un-did a couple of buttons on his shirt. The claw came to rest in the middle of his chest just above his dog tags, not far from where the stitches began beneath. It was an odd feeling, a mixture of revulsion… and empowerment. Yes, he was very much alive, thanks to his team and to Beckett. And Ronon's gift was a symbol of that triumph.

McKay looked queasy, and Sheppard shrugged. "It's not like the stitches themselves don't remind me of what happened every waking minute, McKay."

"You're both crazy."

"Thanks, buddy," Sheppard said to Ronon, patting him on the arm.

Ronon smiled, getting up from his perch on the bed.

McKay busied himself by emptying out the duffel bag, carrying a few things into Sheppard's bathroom. When he came out, he was grinning. "Looks like Carson left you something."

"Like what?"

"It's in the shower stall. One of those walker-things. You know, the kind they have in nursing homes. I guess it's to give you something to hold onto, keep you from falling."

"Oh charming," Sheppard said in a tone heavy with sarcasm. "But I guess that means I can take a shower by myself while you guys wait out here."

"I thought we covered that. You should just wait until Beckett comes here to change the bandages and then take a shower while you're not all taped up. Besides, think about how long it took just to get your clothes _on_, and that was only an hour ago."

"You might have a point about that." Right now he truly had no desire to get up again, or do much of anything. He lay back down, allowing Teyla to fluff up his pillow for him and help him get into a more comfortable position. "I guess you'll have to put up with me smelling like a locker room for a while longer."

"Yes, you need to rest, John," Teyla said. "The walk over here was tiring enough. Stay here in your bed, and we will assist you

McKay shook his head. "Not me, I have to get back to the lab. But I'll be back around dinnertime… Probably… No, no, scratch that, I will be here. I'm going to try to get my hands on some new movies -- when the _Daedalus _came in last week, they brought a batch of new stuff."

Fortunately for them all, the _Daedalus _-- and Colonel Caldwell -- had already left Atlantis to return to Earth at the time Sheppard had been injured. The SGC had refused to grant permission for _Daedalus _to return either, so Sheppard was spared having Caldwell hanging around trying to take over his job again. Major Lorne would do just fine in the interim.

"Doctor Beckett prescribed bed rest," Teyla said. "I'm sure he is going to come check on you this evening, and if he finds us all in here watching movies, I doubt he will be pleased. Neither will Dr. Weir if she visits."

"Yea, she's right. Better make it tomorrow, Rodney."

"Ok, but I'll still come by later," McKay said and started for the door. But he hesitated in the open doorway, saying to Ronon and Teyla, "You're staying, right?"

"As long as he wishes us to, yes," Teyla said.

"Ok, so seriously, don't let him try to do too much, so he doesn't end up cracking his skull open by slipping in the bathroom."

"McKay," Ronon said sharply. "We got it."

"Go, Rodney," Sheppard said, and McKay finally left, and Sheppard thought the door closed when he'd gone.

Sheppard rubbed his hand over his face. "I'd like to shave at least, but it's going to be a bitch, like everything else, trying to do it with my left hand. I'm right handed; it's my damn gun hand. The hand itself is fine, but the shoulder won't let me lift it much."

"So don't try to shower, or to shave, or use your arm, at least for today." Teyla helped him slide the arm back into the sling. "You are supposed to be on bed-rest, as if you were still in the infirmary. Rest, John, so you may regain your strength." She stood up. "I am going to go find some more pillows for you so you may be more comfortable sitting up in bed. And I will bring you more healing tea. I will not be gone long," she said, adding the last for Ronon's benefit.

"That's okay about the tea," Sheppard said quickly. Perhaps too quickly. "Don't go through the trouble."

She raised an eyebrow. "You do not want my tea?"

"No, no… It's not that I don't want it," he said, his cheeks turning a bit pink. "I'm sure it helps with the healing and all… but… it, uhm… it doesn't taste very good."

She hid a smile. "No, it does not. But that is not the purpose of it." Her eyes danced a little as she added, "When it is given to young children, we sometimes put honey in the cup so they will drink it. Would you like me to do that for you, Colonel…?"

The men of the team had been giving her a hard time for the past few days about the 'mischievous young boys' comment she had made to Beckett, and now Sheppard couldn't help but give a half-smile in response to the subtle dig back at him.

Ronon was smiling too as Sheppard replied, "No, that's ok. I'll take my tea straight."

"Very well then," she said with a rather smug smile. "I will return shortly. Is there anything else you need?"

Sheppard shook his head.

Teyla left, and the room became quiet. He shifted on the bed, still trying to get comfortable, then settled back, hand on his chest, fingers tracing idly over Ronon's gift.

He looked at Ronon, the two exchanging blank stares for a minute or so before Sheppard casually said, "Wanna watch something? It sucks watching movies on the laptop screen, but it's better than nothing."

"Sure. Do you still have the one with… Uh, I forget the name. The one with the sword fighting and the general and the emperor…?"

"_Gladiator_?" Ronon nodded. "Yea, I have it. That's a long one though, like 3 hours or so."

"We can skip ahead, right? Just watch the fights and battles and stuff?"

"Good idea," Sheppard said with a smile. "It's over there, on that shelf."

Ronon retrieved the DVD while Sheppard powered up the laptop.

"Does Teyla like this one?"

"I think so. But she likes the slow parts too. We might have to watch some of those too."

Ronon shrugged. "That's ok. The movie's good."

"Yea. Russell Crowe kicks some serious ass in it."

He was about to hit play when he hesitated. "Before we start -- and while Teyla's gone -- I think I'm gonna take a leak."

What he did not say, and what Ronon understood without it needing to be said, was that he wanted to do it by himself.

The things he hated the most about being laid up in the infirmary were bedpans and having to be escorted to the toilet. In his own quarters, it did not matter if he had to crawl into the bathroom on his hands and knees, as long as he could have some privacy. And dignity.

Getting up off the bed by himself was a slow process -- he had to pick up his injured thigh to move it, supporting it from beneath with his hand, turning until he had his foot on the floor. Then the healthy right leg joined it, and he used it and his left arm to push himself up off the bed into a standing position. He wobbled and swayed for a bit until he got his balance, gingerly putting weight on the injured leg until he was steady.

Ronon did not do or say anything, watching with seeming disinterest, but Sheppard could tell his muscles were tensed, poised to jump up if he needed to.

Sheppard hobbled on bare feet across the eight feet of smooth floor to the bathroom door, putting a little more weight on the leg with each step, testing it out, grunting with each lurch forward, jaw clenched, lips pressed together in a thin line. He paused in the doorway, hanging on tightly to the doorjamb, looking back at Ronon.

"Unless you hear me call and ask for help, just assume I'm fine. Don't pay attention to how much I might swear, ok?"

Ronon nodded, and Sheppard went inside, shutting the door behind him.

In the nearly 10 minutes he was in the bathroom, there was indeed a goodly amount of swearing that could be heard through the walls, muffled curses that were punctuated by an occasional thump of a hand against the wall. It was obvious, though, that the cursing was driven by the days of frustration as much as it was from today's pain

Eventually the door opened again, and Sheppard hobbled out, looking slightly paler and a bit sweaty, clutching a clear plastic drinking glass. Most of the water managed to stay in the glass by the time he handed it off to Ronon to put on the table.

He lowered himself slowly to the bed, losing his balance and half-falling the last foot or so, "Dammit!" muttered between clenched teeth as he collapsed down onto it.

"One hundred… and twenty seven…. god-damn stitches…" He groaned, features etched with pain, as he pushed himself back into the middle of the narrow mattress. "So. _Not._ Fun."

Then he stuck his hand out. "Give me one of the Tylenol."

Ronon shook one out of the bottle and handed it over, along with the water glass.

He swallowed the pill, then sank back into the pillows with a long sigh. There was a long pause before he said, "You didn't hear any of that…. Right?"

"Nope," Ronon said, shaking his head, "Didn't hear a thing."

Sheppard took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then he drew himself up and said in a near-normal voice, "Ok, it's movie time. Start it up for me, will you?"

Ronon moved his chair alongside the bed, positioning the laptop on the table so they both could see it, and pressed play.

As Ronon leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him, Sheppard said, "Let's hope we get through the battle scene in the beginning before she gets back. It's not as much fun when someone interrupts us while we're doing a commentary on their tactics."

"Yea, I hate it when that happens," Ronon said, and both grew quiet as the opening titles began to roll.

-----

Sheppard was perched on the edge of his bed, in his underwear, fresh from the shower and drying his hair with a towel while Beckett sat in a chair next to him. The physician leaned forward, examining the wounds in his upper thigh.

"The infection seems to have cleared up. It's healing nicely." Beckett straightened up, reaching for the antibiotic ointment. "You've been walking on it though, haven't you? Without the crutch. I'm still seeing a wee bit of blood on the bandages."

Sheppard tossed the towel onto the bed and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "Yea, but just a few times, only to the bathroom. My babysitters -- " he said with a wry smile, referring to Teyla, McKay and Ronon, " -- they won't let me do much else."

"That's because they know you're on bed-rest, and that you have a history of not taking care of yourself and allowing yourself time to heal properly. When I agreed to let you out of the infirmary early, it was with the understanding that you'd follow my instructions."

Sheppard flinched as Beckett smoothed the ointment along the lines of stitches. "I know, I will. Elizabeth was here earlier and read me the riot act about all that already." Beckett looked less than convinced of his sincerity. "Look, doc, I'm trying, but I'm just not the kind of person that can sit still for very long."

"And I keep telling you, if you don't give these bite wounds time to close properly now, you'll just have to wait longer in the long run. I'm not asking you to keep off of it completely, just go easy for a few more days."

Sheppard nodded reluctantly. "I know. I get it." He sighed. "Look, Carson… Thanks for coming down and giving me a chance to get cleaned up. I feel ten times better just having a shower. Even though you guys cleaned me up when I got back, sometimes… well, sometimes it still felt like I had blood all over me."

Beckett smiled sympathetically. "No need to thank me. If you were still in the infirmary, I'd be doing all this for you there."

He finished smearing the ointment over the wounds, then laid two large sterile pads across them and began to wrap gauze around his leg. "Besides, Rodney absolutely insisted I come down here and let you take a shower under my supervision."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "McKay's gonna drive me nuts. He's been…I don't know, I guess he's been hovering around me for days, like a mother hen. Like you, Carson, but with even less tact."

Beckett let that roll off his back. "Well, John, I hope you do recognize the fact that Rodney doesn't 'hover' around anyone else… You were slowly bleeding to death right in front of him. Give the man a chance to process that."

Sheppard nodded, not knowing quite what to say.

"Same goes for Teyla, bless her heart. And probably Ronon too, even though he wasn't there most of the time," Beckett added, and Sheppard stared thoughtfully at his hands.

"Anyway," Beckett continued after a pause, "Rodney was concerned that you'd take a shower on your own and slip on the wet tile and do yourself worse damage…. Can't say that I blame him either for thinking that."

"Come on, doc, I'm not that bad. Jeez, why is it that people treat me like I've got a brain injury and can't be trusted to think for myself?"

"Past experience perhaps?" Beckett chuckled.

Sheppard just huffed.

Beckett tied off the bandages and leaned back in the chair, reaching for the antibiotic ointment again. "You know, if it were just the leg that was stitched up, I'd probably let you take care of this by yourself from now on. But I'd like to keep an eye out for infection, and you certainly can't deal with that shoulder on your own."

Sheppard looked down at himself. He certainly looked freakish, with the long dark rows of stitches raked across his chest. The bruising around it was starting to fade a bit, some of it changing from black and blue to a sickly yellowish-green. Most of it was still quite dark, however.

Beckett moved the chair to his other side, leaning in to start putting ointment on the shoulder stitches.

"Ow!" Sheppard flinched again as Beckett touched the tender skin, and he grabbed the tube of ointment out of Beckett's hands. "Let me do this myself, okay, doc?"

Beckett acquiesced, leaning back in the chair. "Be my guest."

As Sheppard smeared the ointment on liberally, he asked, "So did you know about the little present Ronon was planning on giving me?"

Beckett's brow furrowed. "…'Present'?

"It's over on the desk."

Beckett got up, and his mouth dropped open when he saw the necklace. "Mother of god…." He held the claw up to eye level. "Ronon gave you _this_?"

"Obviously he didn't tell you why he wanted it."

"Hell no… If he had, I would have told him he's completely daft."

"To Ronon, it's some kind of honor. He killed the animal, but he gave its claw to me -- as some kind of trophy."

"So you're going to keep it?"

He shrugged. "I even wore it earlier… It's an honor, Carson."

Beckett shook his head in disbelief. "You're both daft."

"You were right about one thing though. I was _damn _lucky not to have been ripped apart by that thing when it attacked me."

Beckett only flushed slightly at the reminder of their conversation a few days earlier. "Aye, it was a nasty bugger." He ran his finger along the long curve of the claw, then shuddered briefly and set it down quickly.

Sheppard had finished with the ointment, so Beckett re-bandaged the shoulder, then helped him get into a pair of sweat pants and an old baggy shirt to sleep in.

He put a handful of pills and a glass of water on the nightstand. "Take all of these before I leave. One of them, the pink one, will help you sleep. I'd like you to get at least 8 -10 hours tonight."

"It's still early," Sheppard protested.

"Not that early. Besides, whether you admit it or not, you're worn out, John. You need to sleep."

Sheppard scowled but swallowed all the pills. "Slave driver," he muttered.

"Now I know you know the drill, but I'll say it anyway. Keep the stitches dry and clean, don't touch them or pick at them -- they'll dissolve on their own in time. It'll take 2 or 3 more weeks for them to fully heal, so be patient. I or one of my staff will be checking on them twice a day, but if you notice any sign of infection in the meantime, let us know immediately," he said as he gathered his supplies and instruments back into his bag.

Sheppard nodded. "Got it."

"And now I promised Rodney I'd let him know when I was done here." Before Sheppard could object, Beckett tapped the radio. "Rodney…? This is Carson. I'm done in Colonel Sheppard's room. You can come back now if you'd like… Aye, I'll tell him." He tapped off the radio. "Rodney says he's bringing more dessert."

Sheppard nodded. "There was chocolate pudding at dinner."

"Yes, I know," Beckett said with a smile. Then he pointed to a small plastic package he had left on the table with the meds. "That's an elastic bandage you can wrap around the dressings on the leg tomorrow. This isn't permission to go walking about on it as you please, but it'll help hold everything in place while you're up and about. And use that crutch, even to go to the bathroom."

"Thanks, doc, I'll try to take it easy."

"You'd better." He picked up his things. "Now I'm going to get out of here before Rodney shows up -- he'll probably want to talk my ear off again, and I'd like to enjoy what's left of the evening. Good night, Colonel."

"Sure, leave _me _stuck here to have my ear talked off," he complained

Beckett chuckled. "In about 30 minutes that sleeping pill will kick in, so I wouldn't worry about it. You'll have an excuse for falling asleep while Rodney's talking."

-

TBC

-

_(Thanks for all the great reviews !!!)_


	3. Chapter 3

  
GROUNDED -- Part THREE  
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McKay knocked on the door, but there was no response. He knocked harder, but still nothing.

Where could he be? It was almost lunchtime, so he doubted Sheppard was sleeping -- the man had refused to take any more naps once Beckett had taken him off bed-rest two days ago.

Maybe he was just pretending to be sleeping. McKay tapped on his radio. "All right, Sheppard, open the door. I know you're in there. Quit hiding, it won't work."

A few moments later, Sheppard responded over the radio. "I'm not answering my door because I'm not there, McKay."

"Then where are you?"

"I'm on the, uh… I'm in my temporary office."

McKay shook his head. "Of course, where else? All right, I'll be there in a minute."

McKay went down the corridor and around the corner, up a flight of stairs to the next level, down another corridor, until he reached the balcony doors and stepped outside

The air was crisp and clean, the late morning sun dancing across the waves on the ocean below.

Someone had carried a lounge chair out here, placing it in the shade and away from where it could be seen through the windows. Sheppard was sprawled upon it, feet up, sunglasses on, looking very relaxed. He was wearing his BDU's and boots, which contrasted with the civilian button down shirt. His crutch was propped up against the wall behind him, and all the comforts of 'home' were strewn around him -- laptop, books, magazines and bottled water.

There was also a stack of reports in his lap, which McKay assumed was courtesy of Major Lorne, who was leaning against the balcony railing in front of his C.O.

"Good morning, Dr. McKay," Lorne said.

McKay nodded in his direction. "You going somewhere, Sheppard?" he said, pointing to the tac vest that was slung over the back of the lounge chair. "What's with the vest?"

Sheppard glanced over his shoulder. "It has lots of pockets. Helps me carry things."

As Sheppard moved, the claw necklace Ronon had given him slipped out from the folds of his shirt, hanging next to his dog tags. "I see you're actually wearing that disgusting thing," McKay said, pointing at it.

Sheppard grinned. "Yea. The marines think it's cool. It's too bad I can't wear it on duty."

"You would wear it, wouldn't you? Then you and Conan would have matching dead things around your necks while you're running around off-world with your big manly guns," McKay snarked, then looked at Lorne. "I'll bet you think it's cool too."

Lorne smiled. "Well, I'm not normally one to agree with the marines," the Air Force officer said, "but yea, it's definitely unique."

"I really hope you're just saying that because he's your commanding officer. It would be so nice to think that not every member of the military on this expedition has such barbaric sensibilities."

"You know what, Doc," Lorne said, his smile souring, "It would also be nice if you could take the stick out of your -- "

"Major," Sheppard interrupted before Lorne could finish that sentence. He peered over the top of his sunglasses. "Now boys, play nice."

He pushed the sunglasses back up, only mildly irritated with the latest episode in the on-going sniping that went on between McKay and various members of the military.

"Don't mess with my nice quiet morning -- I'm supposed to be taking it easy. And don't insult my people either, McKay," he said, "Or I might just have to remind them where I got the idea for the war games we're planning."

Lorne had been looking contrite for so easily allowing himself to be drawn into the usual squabble. But McKay's sudden alarm at what Sheppard had said piqued his curiosity. "What's that about the war games, sir?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," McKay said quickly, smiling casually. Then he turned to Sheppard, lowering his voice. "So he doesn't know…?"

"Not yet," Sheppard said lightly, the implied threat hanging in the air. "So just… chill, Rodney."

"Chill? Who says that anymore?" Sheppard raised an eyebrow at him. "All right, yes, shutting up now," McKay said, glancing uneasily at Lorne.

It was apparent that Lorne was anxious to be let in on the secret. "Is there something I should be aware of, sir?" he asked, glancing between the two.

"No…. Not now anyway," Sheppard said, grinning softly at McKay.

He let him sweat for a bit, then continued, "So what brings you to my door this morning, Rodney? Checking up on me? Or is that Teyla's job today?" he smirked.

McKay scowled. "No, I'm through being your keeper. Although I have to say, you'd better not let Elizabeth or Carson catch you out here doing that." He pointed at the paperwork.

"What Carson doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Colonel," Lorne said. "I don't think we're fooling anybody here. I'm fairly certain Dr. Weir knows that I've been talking to you. She'd probably be surprised if you weren't. And if she knows, Beckett knows too."

"Probably so. But the longer I stay away, the bigger the backlog of paperwork gets. The only thing I can do these days is read and write reports. So, is there anything else I need to know about what's going on in Atlantis, Major?"

"No, I don't believe so, sir. I think we've covered everything."

"Good. Well, if anything does come up, be sure to keep me in the loop... But try not to make it look like you're keeping me in the loop," he added with a lop-sided grin.

"Of course, sir," Lorne smiled back and started towards the door to go back inside. "If you need me, I'll be in…" he paused, his smile turning awkward, "in your office."

"You're just keeping my chair warm, remember that…!" Sheppard called as his 2iC disappeared. He turned to McKay. "Think he's after my job?" he asked, half-serious.

"Even if he was, it wouldn't matter. Caldwell's way ahead on the list of people who want your chair."

"True… So what did bring you to my door, McKay?"

"I was going to ask if you were going down for lunch -- Teyla and Ronon will be down soon too. But it looks like you've got a nice little set up right here." There was a storage box on the other side of the lounge chair, and he spotted a couple of MRE's peeking out of the top.

"No, lunch sounds good. The fresh air is great, but I need to get up and move around." He sat up, putting the paperwork away in the storage box. "Give me a hand here and stow this gear before we go."

As McKay picked up the books, Sheppard added, "You know, you could have just called me and asked if I was coming to lunch. Unless you really are checking up on me."

"Don't flatter yourself," McKay said, but did not actually answer the question.

They packed up the box, locking it, then went back inside. Sheppard moved along at a moderate speed now on one crutch.

"Are you going to snitch to Carson about my extracurricular activities?"

"No, but I'm sure he'll figure it out himself soon enough. He has spies everywhere, and he can have you tracked down on the city's sensors."

"Maybe so, but hopefully by the time he does, I'll already be certified fit for light desk duty so I can at least get back into my own damn office."

As they passed the staircase, Sheppard stopped. "Wait, I need to swing by my quarters to clean up."

"Should you be taking the st--- ?"

Sheppard turned, putting his finger in McKay's face. "I am perfectly capable of going down a flight of stairs. It's good exercise. End of discussion."

"Fine," he snapped, folding his arms, waiting at the top of the stairs as Sheppard started down. "But why didn't you set up camp on the balcony on your own floor and save yourself the trouble of dealing with stairs?"

He watched Sheppard's progress down the stairs, one slow step at a time

"Because that's what they'd expect me to do. I don't want it to be easy to find me." He went down another step. "Why are you standing there? I don't need an escort. Go eat. I'll be there in a few."

It was absurd to watch him, McKay decided, and walked away. "Fine, we'll save you a spot at the table."

However, it was not until a smiling Sheppard made his way across the mess hall, the cute new brunette geologist carrying his tray for him, that McKay could finally relax.

----

Sheppard stood in the gate room, looking up at his team as they prepared to go off-world.

No, not _his _team, he corrected himself. Major Lorne's team. Teyla, Ronon and McKay were accompanying his 2iC, along with four marines, to do some recon on a new potential alpha site for relocating the expedition in case of an emergency.

He stood at the bottom of the short flight of steps, to the left of the stargate, leaning against the wall to keep the weight off his leg. It had been two weeks since he had been injured, but there was no reason for the rest of the team to remain grounded too.

It stung nonetheless, not to be leading them himself.

Lorne stiffened under the intensity of his C.O.'s stare and said, "Just routine, sir. We shouldn't be gone long."

"That's the plan," Sheppard said.

Then his gaze shifted, flicking over McKay as he adjusted something on his tac vest, then turned to Ronon and Teyla. There was an unspoken 'You'd all better come back in one piece or I'll kick your ass' in his eyes, and Ronon nodded, resting his hand on the handle of his blaster.

The gate dialed, then there was the usual _whoosh_, leaving the gate room bathed in the shimmering blue glow of the event horizon.

"Good luck everyone," Sheppard said, smiling.

"Thank you, Colonel," Lorne said, then gestured to the team. "Let's go."

McKay gave Sheppard an apologetic, half-hearted smile before he went through, and the 'gate closed when they were gone.

Sheppard's smile quickly evaporated, turning to a deep scowl. He glanced up briefly at Weir as she stood on the balcony in the control room, then made his way slowly back to his office, trying unsuccessfully not to limp.

When he reached his office, he kicked a chair in frustration, then paced for a while before finally settling in to continue with the bottomless pit of paperwork that Weir had saddled him with in an attempt to keep him busy.

He could not concentrate, however, wandering back to the gate room occasionally to check on the team's status, not able to sleep or rest until they had returned 8 hours later, safe and sound, after an uneventful trip which left them with a new candidate for an alpha site.

----

Sheppard swung the bantos rod in a wide arc above his head, feeling the pull of newly mended skin across his chest. But he swung too quickly, and a few moments later felt the light tap of one of Teyla's sticks against the back of his shoulder blade.

"Colonel, please, you are not concentrating. You must follow me and go slowly… gentle, fluid motions…"

She demonstrated again, her movements more elegant than his would ever be, and he watched, twirling the sticks in his hands as he said, "I know, I know, but I'm sick of taking it slow. It's been two and a half weeks since I got out of the infirmary, and right now I really just want to… to…"

"Hit something?" she said, a smile turning up one corner of her mouth.

"Yes!" he said, pointing at her with his stick. "Exactly. Beckett won't clear me for sparring, and I can't go running. They won't let me fly, even though a supply run to the mainland would be a piece of cake. I'm stuck doing desk duty and paperwork until I'm cleared for regular duty, and I'm going crazy."

"I believe Ronon is just as anxious to resume sparring with you as well, but that will not happen until you have strengthened the injured muscles. They are still healing so you must be patient."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the most patient person."

She gave him an overly innocent look. "Really? I was not aware of that, Colonel."

Then she smiled, and he chuckled.

"All right, all right. Let's try this again," he said, gesturing for her to continue.

It was like an Athosian version of Tai Chi, with slow, graceful movements, concentrating mostly on helping him regain full range of motion in his right shoulder, and strength in his left thigh. The long rows of dissolvable stitches had been absorbed into his body, but the muscles beneath were still mending and stretching them in the exercises was uncomfortable and often painful, but he had to admit Teyla's methods were working better than when he was on his own.

The leg was slower to mend, however -- he had an elastic bandage wrapped around it for extra support -- probably because he had been walking on it too much too soon. Or so Beckett said.

When they switched from arm exercises to gentle leg lunges, sweat broke out on his forehead as he could feel his leg start to tremble from the exertion. He was trying his best to keep up with her, but as she squatted lower, leaning forward just a bit more than before, his leg started to shake and finally gave out, and he dropped to one knee on the mat, panting heavily.

"Are you all right?"

He waved her away as she started to come towards him. "Yea, yea. Just a cramp," he said. But that was a lie -- something felt different, felt wrong, but he did not know exactly what it was.

Then again, he had never had a big cat try to take a chunk out of his leg. He sat down on the floor, rubbing his thigh with both hands. "I'll be ok, just give me a minute."

"No, I think that is enough for today," Teyla said, starting to gather up her things, then gathered his too and set both bags by the door.

He was still sitting on the floor, rubbing his leg, and she asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yep, fine," he said, extending his hand towards her. She took it, helping to pull him to his feet. "Thanks." He walked to the door slowly, with his usual pronounced limp. "And before you ask, yes, I'm going back to my quarters now to rest."

"Same time tomorrow then?"

"Yep, I'll be here," he said, following her out.

----

Then next several days were uneventful -- and mind-numbingly dull. The rehab sessions with Teyla were the only respite. They had changed from one long session to two shorter sessions, one in the morning and one in the evening, and that seemed to help things along. His arm was getting stronger, as was his leg.

But he still could not shake the nagging feeling that something was not quite right. The whole thigh still hurt, but there was pain focused in one spot that was causing some concern. It was centered below one of the puncture wounds, where the big cat's long front incisors had sunk in a couple of inches. He knew he should probably say something to Beckett during his daily check-ins, but he was so tired of being poked, prodded and fussed over, he kept it to himself, assuming that it would go away in time and was just part of the healing process.

-----

The alarm went off, and he reached over and swatted it, silencing the annoying chime. After lying there for a few more moments, Sheppard sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Then he swung his legs down onto the floor and stood up.

As he put his weight onto the left leg, pain shot up his thigh unexpectedly, nearly sending him to his knees.

"Crap!" he hissed, cursing like a sailor, falling back onto the bed. He rubbed at the spot vigorously, trying to work out the cramp, or whatever the hell it was, when he felt something under the skin that made his hands stop. About an inch or so deep, in the meat of his thigh, he felt something soft and roughly circular.

"Must be some kind of scar tissue," he muttered. "Guess it's hitting a nerve or something."

A trip to the infirmary to confirm that was probably the wisest thing to do. But he had a meeting this morning with Major Lorne to discuss the war games and first aid training, and the leg was something that could wait.

So he got to his feet slowly, walking around gingerly for a minute or two, and the pain went away. So he took a quick shower, shaved, dressed and headed out to his office.

-  
TBC  
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(Yes, this means there is more Shep-whump coming in the next part…!)  
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_ Thanks for the reviews!_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** _ Thanks so much for the great reviews...!!!_

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GROUNDED --- PART 4  
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Sheppard slowly munched on the last of his brownie, exchanging amused looks with Teyla and Ronon as they sat together in the mess hall, as McKay continued to ramble on and on about how incompetent everyone else in his lab was. He was oblivious, as usual, to the fact that no one was really listening to him.

When McKay paused to push a forkful of salad into his mouth, Sheppard said, "Planning on coming up for air any time soon, Rodney?"

Ronon snickered and Teyla smiled, while McKay just blinked. He chewed his salad and swallowed. "What?"

"It means that the rest of us sometimes like to get a word in edgewise… occasionally."

McKay began to glare indignantly. "Am I boring you, Colonel?"

"If I am, I'm nowhere near as bored as I am spending all day doing paperwork. I think my brain is going to leak out of my ears if Beckett doesn't let me back on active duty soon."

"Wait until he lets you spar again," Ronon said with no small degree of anticipation. "You won't be bored, trust me."

"I'm looking forward to it," he said eagerly. He _really_ needed to hit something and take out his frustrations.

Speaking of frustrations… "Elizabeth thinks you all should go off-world again with Major Lorne, as part of the ongoing negotiations with the people on P3X-1099." He did not bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice -- that was issue #2 on his list of things that pissed him off. 

Teyla glanced at the others -- who did not look any happier with the idea than their team leader did -- and said, "And what do you think, Colonel?"

"I think it's ridiculous," McKay said. "And a huge waste of my valuable time. We're the alpha team, right? You should be good to go in a little while, hopefully, Colonel -- there's no reason Lorne's regular team can't handle it in the meantime."

Ronon and Teyla nodded in agreement.

"My thoughts exactly," Sheppard said, not showing outwardly how pleased he was at the solidarity of his teammates.

McKay glanced at his watch. "Oh, I have to get back to the lab." He shoveled the last bits of dinner into his mouth and stood up.

"I'll come with you," Sheppard said before he could stop himself. God, he really was bored.

"You really must be bored," McKay said.

"You think…?"

McKay rolled his eyes. "Just stay out of the way, all right?"

Sheppard stood, picking up his tray. As he stepped away from the table, the plastic packaging from the brownie fell to the floor. Still holding the tray, he leaned down to pick up the wrapper. But he leaned the wrong way on the injured leg, and pain shot up his body.

He let out a muffled grunt, the leg nearly buckling under him. He managed to keep his balance, but the tray did not. The plastic plate, metal silverware and plastic water glass slid off the end of the tray, clattering noisily onto the floor.

"Good one, Sheppard," McKay said. "Clumsy much?"

Everyone in the mess hall stopped and stared, and Sheppard flushed slightly in embarrassment. "Great," he muttered, trying to bend down and pick up the debris on the floor.

"I will get that for you," Teyla said, as did Dr. Ambrose at the next table, and the pair began to clean up.

"Sorry," Sheppard said.

Then he looked up and discovered his evening was about to get worse, as Dr. Beckett came towards him. It was just his luck that the CMO had been having coffee with Dr. Keller at a table near the door.

"Are you all right, Colonel? Is the leg bothering you?"

"It's ok, it's just a cramp," Sheppard said dismissively, not wanting to make a big deal out of it and trying to make his escape before Beckett got too curious. "I lost my balance for a second. It was stupid to hold the tray with one hand."

Beckett's eyes narrowed. "It looked like more than that to me."

"Is it the same kind of cramp you had before?" Teyla asked, and Sheppard refrained from glaring at her for saying it in front of Beckett.

_I am so busted_, he thought to himself.

He nodded reluctantly, and Teyla continued, "Colonel, you have been having them for far too long." 

"What cramps?" Beckett asked. "And how long is 'too long'?"

"When we were exercising four days ago, his leg seemed to give out and he fell to one knee. He said it was a cramp then too."

"Four days?" Beckett planted his fists on his hips, glaring at Sheppard. "And why is it I'm just hearing about it now?"

Sheppard shrugged. "It's just a muscle cramp."

"Oh, and you're a doctor now, are you? Come on, it's the infirmary for you, bucko."

"Aw, hell, Carson, can't it wait until morning?"

"No, and be thankful I'm not calling for a gurney right now."

"Fine," Sheppard sighed, limping out of the mess hall with Beckett's hand on his arm the whole way to the infirmary, while the team watched with concern.

"He's okay, right?" McKay said. "It's just Sheppard being Sheppard, and he pushed himself too hard and now he strained something." There was a pause, and he looked over at Teyla and Ronon. "Right?"

Teyla nodded. "Probably. He does not like to show weakness or admit he is in pain. And he is very impatient to go back on duty."

"It'd better be just that. We've all spent too much time in the infirmary already," McKay said and headed back to his lab.

-----

Sheppard was perched on an exam table, wearing only a t-shirt and boxer shorts, wincing as Beckett's fingers probed around the healing wounds on his leg. When they reached the 'scar tissue' however, the pain returned sharply as Beckett prodded at it, and Sheppard could not quite hide his discomfort.

"What in the…?" Beckett's brow furrowed deeply, and he looked up. "How long has that been there?"

Sheppard paused, chewing on his bottom lip. "I uh, noticed it this morning."

Beckett snorted in exasperation. "And when were you planning on telling me about this!?"

"I take it it isn't scar tissue."

"Not likely, no. Colonel Sheppard, you may be a very smart man, but sometimes you're a bloody idiot!" he snapped.

"What is it, doc?" Sheppard asked as Beckett walked away.

"We'll both know the answer when I do a scan. At the moment, I have no idea what that is." He pulled the privacy curtain and tossed him a gown. "Put this on."

--

Sheppard lay still on the exam table, trying not to move while the Ancient scanner passed over his body, pausing over his thigh, moving back and forth several times before continuing down to his toes then turning off.

He heard a sharp intake of breath, and turned as Beckett and Dr. Cole were huddled in front of a monitor screen, talking in hushed voices, both with furrowed brows. Definitely not scar tissue, he thought to himself, swallowing hard.

"What's wrong, doc?"

There was a long pause as they whispered to each other, then Beckett answered, "Please, Colonel, lie still and don't move. We're going to do another scan, a full body scan this time. It'll be another few minutes, so just relax while the machine does its work. And don't talk."

A full body scan? Crap. This was definitely not looking good.

He managed to be patient while the scan was being done, but once the equipment was wheeled away again, he started to get nervous as the arrival of Dr. Keller had made it three doctors that were clustered around the monitor.

Finally, he could not keep quiet any more. "Carson, are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?"

"You'll know when I know," he said, then went back to talking.

Three nurses joined the group, and the talking became increasingly animated, but he was too far away to understand what they were saying. He started hearing words like 'containment', 'protocols', 'exobiology' and 'surgical excision', which was really starting to freak him out.

Abruptly they all scattered hurriedly, including Beckett, who left the room for a moment and came back wearing a surgical mask over his face and gloves on his hands.

"What the hell is going on?" Sheppard demanded.

"I'm afraid we have to enact level 2 quarantine procedures. You are being placed under isolation, Colonel."

He sat up. "What…!? Quarantine? Why?"

"I won't know for certain exactly what we're dealing with until I go in and remove it, but it appears you have some sort of… parasite in your leg."

His eyes went wide, and he grabbed Beckett's lab coat. "Then get it out of me. Now!"

"I have every intention of doing that as soon as possible. However, we have to prepare first, just in case there are any complications. Its composition doesn't match any known parasite on file, so we can only assume you picked it up on the planet."

"But -- "

His head was swimming. _A parasite…!? What the hell!?_

"But you said that mountain-lion-thing that attacked me was clean, that there weren't any nasty alien bugs on it." 

"There wasn't. Nothing like this was on the scan. But it's possible you got it from the environment in the cave. It was an open wound, so something might have been on your clothes, or on the cloth they used to bandage you up. Some very small larval stage of the parasite could have gotten in and… well, set up housekeeping."

"Good god…" He thought he was going to be sick. "Is it just the one? Or is that why you scanned my whole body, do you think there's more?" His hand went to his shoulder, fingers probing the area around the stitches, looking for anything beneath the skin and thankfully not finding anything.

"There's no sign of anything elsewhere in your body, not at the moment."

"At the moment? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means it's a creature none of us have seen before, so we don't know what its life cycle is or anything else about it."

Sheppard shook his head vigorously. "Is every damn bug in the Pegasus galaxy out to get me…!? I hate bugs! And now you're telling me there's one inside me?."

"Lad, it could well be that this is no more serious than having a tape worm back home. We're just taking precautions in case it's not."

"I don't want a damn tapeworm either!" He slumped back onto the table. "Damn it… I should have said something to you four days ago."

It was a mistake to admit that aloud, Sheppard realized, because it then became abundantly clear that underneath his calm professional demeanor, Carson Beckett was madder than a wet hen.

"Aye, you should have!" he snapped, his blue eyes blazing, his accent becoming noticeably thicker, as it often did when he lost his temper. "What the hell you were thinking, man? When you were brought back after the accident and had the initial infection, you were so worried about it being something exotic. But three weeks later you just ignore a strange lump under the skin in that very spot? How daft are you? You wondered why people treat you like a child when you get hurt? Well, THIS is why! Maybe I should be doing an even more thorough brain scan, because you've obviously lost your bloody mind!"

Sheppard was quiet, knowing he deserved every word.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Colonel?"

"Doc, you kept telling me I was fine and that I just had to wait for things to heal. You said that animal didn't give me anything weird, so I didn't have any reason to think it was anything more than sore muscles from training too hard and scar tissue from the bite. You know I hate being grounded -- I wanted to get back in the air, and back with my team. I wanted to get back on duty and I didn't think a stupid pulled muscle or a cramp should screw that up. So I…. figured it would… go away on it's own," he added lamely.

Beckett threw up his hands in disgust. "Oh, don't you dare try to put some of the blame for this on me! I let you out of the infirmary earlier than I wanted to, on the condition that you would behave yourself, Colonel. I thought we had an understanding about you taking proper care of yourself." Beckett was livid, his face starting to turn red. "No, we did not find anything out of the ordinary on that alien beast. But you know damn well that we're dealing with unknown ecosystems out here, and just because we don't find things right away, it's no guarantee of anything! I depend on the patient to tell me if something's not quite right. You had a duty and a responsibility to me and the people of this city to report any unusual symptoms and -- !"

He stopped when he realized a couple of the nurses on the other side of the infirmary were staring at them. He turned away, putting his hand to his face for a moment. He took a long deep breath, and when he turned around again, his calm and professional persona had returned, though his eyes still glittered with anger.

"Clearly, it is not the time or the place for this. But I assure you, Colonel, this is _not_ the end of this conversation, not by a long shot."

Sheppard kept quiet, knowing that just about anything he said at this point was bound to make things worse. 

But then his head snapped up as an awful thought occurred to him. "Doc, wait…! My team! Teyla, McKay, Ronon -- we were together on that planet. Are they in any danger?"

What scared him more than anything else -- even more than what was happening in his own body -- was the possibility that his silence had somehow put their lives and/or health at risk too.

"I don't know that yet either. But according to the protocols, your whole off-world team must be put under quarantine and be re-checked as well." He paused briefly. "They'll be coming to take you to isolation in a minute. I have to go now and try and explain all this to Elizabeth."

Beckett started to walk away, then came back over to him. "Things are going to get a bit crazy in here, but understand that I'm doing this by the book and following protocols. Whatever the little beastie is, my gut feeling is that we caught it early before it's had time to do any damage to you. On the scan, it appears to still be encapsulated, in some kind of a cyst. Needless to say, you've got the attention of the whole medical staff, and we're going to figure out what's going on and take good care of you, John." He patted his shoulder reassuringly then hurried off.

Sheppard was left alone for a few minutes, and he looked down at his leg, running his hand over the spot. An image went through his mind from the movie 'Alien' and the creature bursting out of the guy's chest in a spray of blood, and he had a sudden urge to get up, grab a scalpel and cut the damn thing out himself. Instead, he took a deep breath as two people in hazmat suits approached.

"Elizabeth is going to kill me," he muttered, "if Carson doesn't beat her to it," as they led him off to the isolation room, knowing it was going to be a _really_ bad day.

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TBC 


	5. Chapter 5

_(Thanks again for all the reviews !!!!)_

GROUNDED --- Part 5  
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McKay was hunched over his keyboard, furiously typing as his fingers struggled to keep up with his brain.

"McKay…" he heard Zelenka call out.

He did not dare shift his concentration, or the idea that was just out of reach, on the verge of taking solid form, would evaporate. He waved his hand in Zelenka's general direction, muttering, "Shut up."

"McKay!"

The tone was more urgent now, and he cursed as the equations that had been dancing before his eyes disappeared. "Damn it, Radek, _what…_!?"

He whirled around in his chair, ready to verbally unload on the Czech scientist… 

Only to yelp in startled surprise as he discovered two men in hazmat suits standing right behind him. His flailing hand knocked over his coffee mug, spilling the contents across the counter and down onto the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you!? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Dr. McKay, we're here to take you down to the infirmary and place you under quarantine. Doctor Beckett's orders."

"Quarantine? Is this some kind of a joke? You -- " he stopped, looking around at the rest of his staff, "Oh, I get it. That's what this is, right? A joke? Well sorry, if you want me out of the lab for a while, too bad."

"Rodney, this isn't a joke," Zelenka said as he and the others were backing away nervously and heading for the door.

"Well then it must be Sheppard. Did he put you up to this?"

"Doctor, Colonel Sheppard is already in isolation. We discovered he has some sort of parasite in his body that he must've picked up off-world. Your whole team has been ordered into quarantine, level 2 protocols. Please come with us."

"What?" The color drained out of his face and his mouth went dry. "A parasite? What kind of parasite!?" Panic rose as he touched his face and started to run his hands over his body. "Oh my god, is it in me too!?"

"That's what they want to find out. Please come with us now, Doctor."

"Right! Right." He dashed ahead of them towards the door. When they caught up with him, he stopped again.

"Oh my god. Sheppard. No no no! It's in his leg, that's why he dropped that tray in the mess hall."

"They found something in his leg, yes."

"Damn it, we just got him _out_ of the infirmary," McKay said as he hurried out the door. "How the hell does the man keep doing this to himself?"

By the time he got to the infirmary, Teyla and Ronon were already there, and the three were herded into a small back room where three beds had been hastily placed. 

"Wait, what are you doing? What's wrong with us? What kind of parasite is it? Where's Sheppard?" McKay demanded, firing off questions in quick succession, as clear plastic sheeting was placed across the doorway, and quarantine signs were placed outside. "I thought he was going to be in quarantine with us."

"No, he's in the iso room. Beckett's going to try to remove it once we get a better idea what we're dealing with. When he has time, I'm sure he'll explain it to you himself." With that, the nurse disappeared, security guards in hazmat gear taking up station outside the door and preventing them from leaving.

"Hey, wait, you didn't answer my question. What have we got? What's it going to do to us?" McKay yelled.

"So we're just supposed to wait here? Together in this little room?" Ronon asked.

"Yes yes," McKay said. "It's emergency protocol, whenever they discover some kind of alien pathogen or bug is loose in the city. Since we were all off-world together, they have to make sure that we haven't got whatever Sheppard's got."

"But we've been back for several weeks. Isn't it too late to try to keep something from spreading?" Teyla said.

"Yes, well, that is true. But we all have to be tested, just to make sure."

He started pacing back and forth in the confined space. "Oh my god, oh my god," he said, wide-eyed and sweating, looking as though as he were headed for a full-blown panic attack. "We were all in that dark, damp, dirty cave together for hours. Who knows what the hell we picked up in there, or breathed in?"

"Rodney," Teyla said calmly. "Have you felt ill or had any strange symptoms since returning?" McKay paused and shook his head. "Ronon, have you?"

"No."

"Neither have I. If we had been affected by something on the planet, surely we would have shown symptoms by now. Perhaps Colonel Sheppard's problem is related to his injuries. As I said earlier, his leg has been bothering him quite a bit the past few days."

"Yea, yea, you're right," McKay said. "All those open wounds, maybe something got in there… Yes, that must be it…! I had his blood all over me, but I didn't get cut, there was no open wound. You didn't either, right?" he said to Teyla.

"No." She turned and looked at Ronon. "But you did."

"Oh no," McKay said, his face turning pale again. "You'd better have them check that!"

"There's nothing wrong with my leg," Ronon said.

But he sat down on one of the beds, putting his foot up on it. He pulled off his boot and rolled up the bottom of his trousers.

The gash on his calf was almost completely healed, only a thin red line remaining. "I didn't cut it in the cave. It happened on the way down when I fell and hit it against a rock. It wasn't deep, just mainly tore the skin. Not like Sheppard's."

They looked worriedly at each other.

"You don't think it's anything we did, do you?" McKay said. "I mean, most of those bandages weren't sterile at all. But we didn't exactly have any other choice; it was either use our clothes or let him bleed to death."

"Indeed, there was nothing else we could have done under those conditions," Teyla assured him.

'Of course. Right." McKay began to pace again. "So his leg has been bothering him for days, is that the deal? And he didn't say anything to Carson?"

"Apparently not," Teyla sighed. "It is my fault, I should have told Carson myself; I should have known the Colonel would not do it himself."

"No, no, it is totally Sheppard's fault. Oh, I am so going to kick his ass when I see him again! I knew he wasn't taking his injuries seriously enough, him and his stupid 'I'm invincible' flyboy bullcrap. The idiot thinks he's some kind of superhero that can just bounce right back from this stuff. He had the nerve to get mad at me and mock me for being more of a mother hen than Carson. Ha! I told you so! Who's laughing now, Colonel?" A nervous smile appeared briefly and then quickly faded. "Oh god, this is so not funny. A parasite? What the hell does that mean anyway…? Wasn't that Iratus bug that tried to suck the life out of him considered a parasite too?" His eyes were wide as he looked at Teyla.

"Yes, but I'm sure it is nothing like that. We all saw him an hour ago -- he was all right except for the pain in his leg."

"Right, right. He'll be fine. Carson will take care of it. Carson always takes care of it," McKay said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else.

There was another flurry of activity out in the main room, more people in hazmat gear pushing equipment around, and McKay moved to stand in the doorway.

"Hello…!? Hey! Where's Beckett?" he yelled out at them. "What the hell's going on with Colonel Sheppard…? Isn't anyone going to tell _us_ what kind of parasite we might have…?"

----- 

Several hours after being put in quarantine, Sheppard lay on a table in the isolation room, with Beckett and a host of others gathered around in protective gear, preparing for minor surgery.

They had decided against doing a biopsy first, not knowing what the parasite's reaction might be to the disturbance, and also because the fluid in the sac that encapsulated it appeared to have toxic properties. The fluid was probably already responsible for the pain in Sheppard's leg, and thus puncturing the sac could cause even more damage to the surrounding tissue. Therefore, it had been the consensus among the physicians and biologists to immediately remove the sac surgically, before it ruptured.

Sheppard had only been given a local anesthetic, leaving him fully aware of what was happening. Beckett said that was precaution too, because they did not know how the parasite might react to a general anesthetic.

They had also given him a mild sedative, but that was presumably to keep him from freaking out on the table during the procedure.

He was hooked up to numerous monitors, with other medical equipment nearby, such as a crash cart, just in case anything might go wrong.

On the level above, he could see Elizabeth watching through the glass windows, with the rest of the medical staff and other scientists gathered around. He raised his hand and waved to her, and she waved back, smiling reassuringly.

Beckett came closer, saying, "I'm ready to start the procedure now," his voice slightly muffled by his suit. And so Sheppard focused his attention back on the matter at hand. He could not see what they were doing because of the tented, curtain-like fabric across the top of his chest, but he could hear.

He could also see the med tech who was recording the whole thing on a video camera.

Beckett leaned closer into his field of view. "Are you ready, Colonel Sheppard?"

He licked his lips nervously. "I was ready for this four hours ago. Just get the damn thing out of me, doc."

"Just a wee bit longer, and it'll all be taken care of, Colonel." He stepped back. "All right, everyone. Keep a close eye on his vitals -- if there are any significant changes, we may have to adjust our plan. And Colonel?" He was looking at him again. "I know you can't feel your leg at the moment, but if you notice anything unusual in the way you feel otherwise, let us know immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Beckett glanced at one of the nearby monitors. "Try to breathe easy now, son. Slow, deep, even breaths, like we talked about before."

"Easy for you to say, doc," Sheppard said with a humorless smile.

He half-closed his eyes, willing himself to relax, trying to remember some of the meditation techniques he had not quite learned from Teer and the other Ancients when he had been stranded with them for six months. The churning in his stomach eased a little, as did the feeling of nasty things crawling all over him that had been with him ever since Beckett had said the word 'parasite'.

There was a long pause, then Beckett said, "That's better. All right then, let's begin. Scalpel," he said to the nurse.

From then on, Beckett started talking to the camera, documenting everything he was doing.

"I am making an initial 7 centimeter incision laterally above the vastus lateralis muscle in the patient's left thigh… I now have the mass in sight. It is approximately 2 centimeters below the epidermis," Beckett said. "Retractor, please…" There was the brief noise of a metal surgical tool being picked up. "The mass does appear to be directly beneath a pre-existing, nearly healed puncture wound sustained 26 days ago by the patient… Suction, please…."

Sheppard ignored the sound of his own blood being removed from the incision site.

"The puncture wound is the most likely entry point for the unidentified biological entity…" Beckett continued. "What was seen on the scan appears to be true, that the mass is encapsulated, with no discernable invasive characteristics. It has a thick, grayish, translucent outer membrane… I estimate the mass to be approximately 2.5 centimeters in diameter… Further inspection reveals that there is a small indentation on the lateral side, near a small blood vessel. Later analysis will tell us whether this is the means for obtaining nourishment from its host."

Sheppard could not feel anything, but it was difficult not to be sickened as he imagined Beckett poking around in the incision and the alien thing in his flesh.

"There does not appear to be any attachment between the mass and the patient's tissues. So I believe it should be possible to surgically excise the mass without adverse affects to the patient. Do you concur, Dr. Cole?"

"Yes, I concur," Cole said.

"Dr. Keller?"

"Yes, I concur, Dr. Beckett."

"All right then." Beckett took a deep breath. "I am now attempting to remove the foreign mass from the patient….Forceps, please…"

There was a long pause after that, and Sheppard wanted to scream, "Get it the hell out of me!" but he concentrated on staying calm and keeping his breathing steady. The heart rate monitor gave away his anxiety, however, and the nurse nearby -- Nechayev he thought, although it was hard to tell with the suits on -- smiled at him and laid her gloved hand on his shoulder.

"Easy now, gently… Ah… You cheeky bugger, I've got you now." Beckett straightened slightly and cleared his throat. "I mean, I was able to easily hold the mass with forceps and lift it free from the surrounding tissue… Bring that specimen jar closer."

Sheppard caught a brief glimpse of a metal and glass container that had 'BIOHAZARD' written across the sides in large red letters. A few moments later, something soft and wet plopped into the jar.

"Take this to the lab for analysis, _stat _!" Beckett ordered. Someone hurried off with the container and went out the doors.

"All right now, people, let's be sure we've got all of it. Visually, it looks ok, but let's get that new scan right now and make sure before I stitch him up again." 

They hurried to set up the scanner, and everyone stood back while his leg was scanned, presumably while the wound was still wide open and bleeding. Then they all stepped back in when the scan was done. Beckett leaned over him then, saying, "It's almost over now, John. I just want to verify that it's completely removed."

Sheppard nodded. "Do what you gotta do, doc."

He stepped away for a few minutes, then came back. Even through the mask, Sheppard could tell the Scotsman was smiling. "There's no trace of foreign cells -- looks like we got it all. I'll just debride the wound to make doubly certain, then close him up."

Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief and finally allowed himself to smile too.

"Doc, take care of my team, make sure they're okay too."

"It's already being done, Colonel," Beckett said. "As I told you twice before, we've done a thorough examination and scan on all three of them, and there's no trace of anything out of the ordinary. I think we've nipped this in the bud before it got out of hand, but we'll be keeping everyone under observation and isolation until further notice. The lab needs time to figure out just how dangerous this creature is."

"Don't worry about me, just take care of them," Sheppard insisted.

"I think we can manage to look after all four of you, son." Beckett smiled reassuringly. "Now I'm going to give you a few more stitches, but only about a dozen or so this time. We'll have you back in a nice comfy bed in just a wee bit."

"Thanks, doc."

As Beckett went back to work, Sheppard let his gaze wander upwards again to Weir. Most of the scientists around her had disappeared, and even at this distance, he could see the relief clearly in her face. He gave her a quick smile and a 'thumbs up' gesture.

Weir returned it, smiling back.

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TBC


	6. Chapter 6

_(Thanks for all the reviews...!!!!!)_

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GROUNDED --- Part 6 (of 8)  
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Twenty-four hours after Sheppard's surgery, McKay, Teyla and Ronon were let out of quarantine, having passed numerous scans with no traces of ever having been affected by a similar organism. Sheppard had not seen them at all, as he was still being kept isolated all by himself, but they had been nearby, and he could occasionally hear McKay's paranoid rantings. Under the circumstances, he could hardly blame the man for being freaked out.

Beckett had not even let him have a radio, which he supposed was part of his punishment for being a 'bloody idiot'.

It had taken another 24 hours for Beckett and the science staff to be convinced that Sheppard's body was clean now and that the parasite had been a single point of infection and had not had the opportunity to spread.

However, being let out of isolation did not mean he was being let out of the infirmary. He went back under Beckett's watchful eye for another day, until he had drilled into his recalcitrant patient's head that he would only be allowed to return to his quarters if he promised to report _anything_ and _everything_ about his physical condition to his doctors.

Once he was out of isolation, Sheppard was allowed visitors, and so Beckett had called Weir, McKay, Ronon and Teyla to his office. 

"Are you sure he's all right now, that it is safe to let him out of quarantine?" Weir asked.

"Well, we're still doing scans several times a day as a precaution, but all of us in the medical and biology departments have agreed that the organism has been removed from his body, and there's no danger of it spreading to anyone else. We'll watch him for another few days, just to be sure we didn't miss something else. But I don't see why he can't have visitors now. In fact, I think it would do him good to have some company. He's been unusually quiet since he's been in here."

"What do you mean?" Teyla asked.

"Well, you know how he usually gets -- restless, demanding to be let out, pestering the staff. But this time he's been a model patient." Beckett sighed. "In retrospect, I might have been too hard on the lad. Not that he didn't deserve to a good tongue-lashing, but perhaps not quite so soon after the surgery. I don't know if I finally managed to put the fear of god into him, or if he's just… disturbed by the whole experience."

"Ya think, Carson? I'm grossed out and freaked out by the fact he was walking around with those alien worms in his leg for almost a _month_. And it wasn't even my leg," McKay said with a shudder.

Beckett winced. "Aye… That too." 

"You know," McKay continued. "Now that you mention it, he has been sleeping nearly every time I've come by."

"And when I have been here as well," Teyla said.

"Aye, that's the thing. He hasn't been sleeping that much. Just pretends to be. He's definitely been a bit withdrawn."

"Are you sure he's ready for visitors," Weir said. "Maybe he needs more time."

"Or maybe he's felt sorry for himself long enough." Beckett nodded towards the main ward of the infirmary. "Go on then. Maybe he'll cheer up a bit once he sees you. But obviously, don't tell him I told you all this," he said, his last sentence directed mainly at McKay.

They filed into the room, smiling as they saw Sheppard lying in bed, awake and alert, hooked up to various monitors but no I.V.s.

He smiled back warmly, seeming to be very much like his usual self, pushing himself up in bed, pulling the blanket up higher over his scrubs.

"Hey, guys. Everyone doing okay?"

"Yes, everyone's fine. But we should be asking you that, John," Weir said. "My god, you certainly gave us all a scare." He had only been allowed to speak with her briefly over the radio a few times, waving at each other through the windows of the isolation room. "We're all very thankful you're doing well."

"I told you you had a knack for winding up in the infirmary," McKay said.

"And like I said before, it's a talent. One that I wish I really didn't have."

"I didn't think you'd end up back here quite so soon. Or that we'd all wind up in here with you. You are definitely 'bug-man' now, Sheppard."

He knew he would be hearing jokes and comments like that for months. "If you call me 'bug-man' again, we're going to have a problem… Meredith."

McKay frowned. "Yea, well maybe now you'll listen to what Carson tells you."

Teyla and Weir gave him annoyed looks for bringing up that topic so soon.

"Yes, I do believe we'll be having a discussion about that as well, John," Weir said. "But that can wait until you're out of here."

"Oh, joy," Sheppard said. "I can't say I'll be looking forward to that." He took a deep breath, sighing heavily.

"Look, I'm sorry everyone. I know I screwed up by not saying something sooner. But regardless of when I mentioned it, I still would have had some damn alien bug in my leg and been put under isolation and quarantine. They still would have had to operate to take it out. So how about a little bit of consideration for the guy who just had surgery on his leg for the second time in four weeks? Especially since I was awake the whole time for the second one?"

"We know all that," McKay said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We went through the whole worrying stage already while you were in iso. Now we're all in the 'I can't believe you were stupid enough not to say anything' stage."

"You were worried, McKay?" Sheppard said with a bit of a smirk.

"For myself, yes! I was in that cave too. Who knows what the hell else we picked up."

"There was nothing, Rodney," Beckett said as he rejoined them. "I wouldn't have let you out of quarantine if there were."

"Pardon me if I don't find that terribly comforting, because you said Sheppard was 'just fine' when you let him out of here the _first_ time," McKay said in a scathing tone.

"Aye, well…" Beckett cleared his throat self-consciously. "Nothing showed up on the initial scans when you all got back from that mission. We've theorized that some sort of dormant spore made its way into the open wound and became active again in the presence of…" His eyes flicked towards Sheppard. "Well, of a food source. A host. It might not have happened right away, which may be why it didn't show up before." 

McKay snorted. "All of which confirms to me the opinion I've had for quite a long time, that modern medicine is one step removed from voodoo."

"That's hardly fair, Rodney. We're dealing with alien ecosystems here. It's a bloody miracle we're not all dead a dozen times over from some alien version of bubonic plague. I can't be expected to test for things that I didn't even know existed. The soil and air samples that were brought back by the second science team have been inconclusive. We've not found traces of anything that might have infected Colonel Sheppard. However, that cave that you all took shelter in has been further contaminated since you were there. The carcass of the animal had been picked clean by the local scavengers in the past few weeks. But even in all that mess, we didn't find anything. The truth is, we may never know precisely how he was infected."

McKay opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Beckett continued, "And before you start on me about what else I might have missed, need I remind you that we were all well aware of the risks we were taking just coming to the Pegasus galaxy in the first place, including being exposed to potentially lethal alien pathogens."

"We could theorize for weeks about the homogeneous nature of the intelligent life forms in this galaxy -- humans -- and the apparent lack of _truly_ alien ecosystems, and the role the Ancients played in the fact that we haven't all died from lethal alien pathogens," Weir said, looking at everyone, especially McKay. "But I suggest we don't, and be thankful that what happened to Colonel Sheppard wasn't nearly as serious as it might have been."

"Sounds good to me," Sheppard said. 

"Indeed, it's all part of the many mysteries the Ancients left us," Beckett said.

"But I know all that doesn't get me off the hook about not saying anything about my leg." Sheppard looked down at his hands as he pulled at a loose thread on the blanket, chewing on his lower lip. "Believe me, if I thought for one second that this involved more than just a muscle strain, that it could have hurt my team or the rest of the people on Atlantis, I would have said something right away. I would never knowingly put any of you in jeopardy, I swear to god… I let you down, and I'm sorry."

Beckett and Weir glanced at each other, both thinking that this might be why Sheppard had been rather quiet. The man took his responsibility to protect the people of Atlantis very seriously, and so it was not difficult to imagine that he would now feel like he had failed in that responsibility.

"What are you saying, John?" Weir said. "That your own health means nothing? We need you here, and protecting yourself is as important as anything else."

"Indeed, Colonel, there is no reason for you to feel as if you have let anyone down," Teyla said. "You were infected with the creature at the same time you were attacked by the animal. While you were trying to find shelter from the storm for all of us, if I need to remind you. There is no shame in any of that, nor are you responsible."

"I appreciate the thought. But Beckett's right -- I should have said something as soon as I realized the leg wasn't healing right. If I had waited any longer, and that thing had… hatched," he said with a repressed shudder, "who knows what might have happened?"

"As we've discussed before, Colonel," Beckett said, "we don't know for certain if they ever could have spread to other people even if they had fully matured. But I do know that once the sac ruptured and the larvae inside were released, they would have done significant damage to your thigh muscles and leg. Perhaps permanent damage."

Sheppard looked queasy, and the others looked uncomfortable as well.

"Geez, Carson, will you stop? _Way_ too much information," McKay said, putting his hands over his ears. "We all know it would have been sickeningly, grotesquely bad; can we leave it at that?"

"Well, then maybe this isn't the best time to bring this up… But I was wondering if you would like to see what we took out of your leg, Colonel." 

"Uhm, I really don't know about that…" Sheppard said, scratching his head.

"I'd like to see it," Ronon said.

"I already have," McKay said, his face still showing his distaste. "So has Elizabeth. It's disgusting. Small, but disgusting."

"I guess that means 'yes', doc," Sheppard said. "I might as well know too what happened to me. But just for the record -- I never _ever_ want to see the video you took of the surgery."

Beckett nodded, leaving the room and returning several minutes later with a metal container marked 'BIOHAZARD'. Inside there was a clear glass jar, with more biohazard warnings, that was half-filled with a clear fluid, probably formaldehyde. Floating in the liquid was a small grayish cyst, which had been cut open, and a half dozen long, white worm-like creatures. 

"They look like… rice noodles. Very thin rice noodles," Sheppard said, looking down into the container as it sat on a tray beside his bed.

"They died shortly after we opened up the outer shell that enclosed them," Beckett said. "The fluid that surrounded them was mildly toxic to humans, but the parasites themselves are not unlike hookworms you'd find on Earth. We've been searching the Ancient databases for more information about it, but so far we haven't found anything."

"I don't suppose you'll be wearing _that_ on a cord around your neck, will you, Sheppard?" McKay snarked.

"No, Rodney, I won't." 

"Did they tell you they confiscated the claw?" Ronon said. "They said they needed to scan it again."

Sheppard looked up at Beckett. "You took it?"

"Of course. We had to re-check everything. But you can have it back now, if you really want it. Although god only knows why. I find the whole concept rather distasteful."

Ronon squared his shoulders, and Beckett glanced at the bones hanging around the Satedan's neck and added quickly, "No offense, son."

Sheppard shrugged. "That which does not kill us makes us stronger… Well, I should be a lot stronger because it's tried to kill me twice now."

"I must admit, when I first saw you wearing that, I was rather… surprised," Weir said.

"When I'm back on duty, you won't see me with it. Regulations and all," he said, glancing at Ronon. "But it's an honor to be given it, since he's the one who killed it.

"But that thing," Sheppard continued, looking at the worms in the jar. "Hell, that scares me more than the 500 pound cat with the four inch claws."

McKay peeked in the jar and shuddered again. "To me, it's a toss-up as to what's the more scary. That thing is just creepy gross."

"It is rather unpleasant," Teyla said.

"So, doc," Ronon said. "When are you letting Sheppard out of here?"

Sheppard looked up expectantly.

"Not until we get a few more clean scans of the affected area. The incision itself was just minor surgery which shouldn't take more than a week or two to heal up."

"So what does that mean?" Ronon said.

"Well, it means at least another 24 hours here in the infirmary. But given the patient's past history about reporting adverse reactions, I'm not exactly inclined to be sympathetic when it comes to another early release." He gave Sheppard a disapproving look.

"I've learned my lesson this time, doc, believe me," he said.

"I would hope so," Weir said. "Well, I have to get back to work. I'll come by later to visit, John." She briefly laid her hand on his arm. "When you're feeling better, we'll talk about this some more."

Sheppard smiled thinly, nodding. "Thanks for visiting, Elizabeth."

When she was gone, he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, grimacing. "God, I am _so_ dead, aren't I?"

Beckett folded his arms across his chest. "Most definitely. Elizabeth is no happier with your conduct than I am, Colonel, I can guarantee you that." 

"Oh, you _so_ are, Sheppard," McKay said with a gloating smile. "If you weren't already in danger of imminent death, she was probably ready to kill you herself when she first found out you hadn't said anything for four days." His smile got even wider. "And you know what? Now you can't hold that thing over my head about the first aid and war games and stuff, because my mistake was trivial in comparison to yours."

Sheppard started to reply, then paused, scowling. "Damn." 

McKay bounced on the balls of his feet, his grin widening.

Ronon grabbed a chair and dragged it noisily over to Sheppard's bedside, sitting down and stretching his long legs out in front of him. "We can stay, right?" he asked Beckett, almost as an afterthought.

"Yes, you can all stay." Beckett picked up the biohazard container. "I'll take this back to the lab now. Try to keep it reasonably quiet in here. This is a hospital, don't forget."

Beckett left, and as Teyla and McKay brought chairs over too, Sheppard said, "Honestly, guys, I'm really sorry, about everything, about you being in quarantine and -- "

"Which would have happened no matter when you reported it to Dr. Beckett," Teyla interrupted. "As I said before, it was not your fault."

"Forget about it, Sheppard," Ronon said firmly. "You had it easy, you know. You were in quarantine by yourself." His eyes turned towards McKay, his tone less than amused.. "Teyla and I were stuck in a small room with _him_ for 24 hours."

Sheppard grinned while McKay started to sputter. "Hey, you weren't exactly pleasant company either, Conan….!"

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As Beckett returned from the lab, he looked in on Sheppard. He and Teyla were smiling and laughing -- at McKay's expense, apparently, since he was red-faced and not laughing -- at some story Ronon was telling about their experiences in quarantine.

Sheppard seemed in genuinely better spirits than he had just an hour earlier, and Beckett smiled too as he went back to his office.

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TBC  
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_(Two more chapters left...!)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks so much for all the reviews...!!!! _ :-)

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GROUNDED --- Chapter 7  
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It was John Sheppard's usual habit to not merely sit in the chair in front of Elizabeth Weir's desk, but sprawl over it, relaxed and self-confident, with an easy-going smile. 

But not today.

This time he was sitting up straight, not quite at attention, but close to it, and definitely not smiling, as it felt as though he was getting a dressing down from his commanding officer.

And, in essence, he was. Elizabeth was stern-faced and all business, and appearing even less sympathetic was Carson Beckett, who sat along side her desk, the both of them facing Sheppard.

All of them had the thick manuals for biological contamination protocols open in front of them. And Weir was going through the section on off-world protocols. Slowly. In detail. Point by point by point. Making him read back the most salient points, and explain to Beckett why he had deviated from those protocols in recent days.

It was embarrassing, especially since half the walls in her office were glass, and everyone passing through the control room or the gate room would know what was going on. No doubt McKay was lurking and gloating down there somewhere.

But he had no one to blame for his current situation but himself, so he could do little but listen patiently while they let him know, in no uncertain terms, how disappointed and angry they both were.

"… John, you're the military leader of Atlantis," she was saying at the end of a much longer rant. "People look to you; you're supposed to set an example. When you do things like this, you're risking a lot more than just your own personal health and safety."

"You know, Elizabeth," he drawled, trying to put the best positive spin on this that he could think of, "you could also look on this not as an example, but an opportunity, if you will, to show everyone what awful things can happen when you _don't_ follow protocol. I mean, I've already got guys grumbling about not wanting to go on missions where they might have to eat the local food or drink the water. I think everyone got the message loud and clear."

"Yes, it is true that this does indeed have some deterrent effect. But I would have much preferred that the example had been made by some green recruit who'd just come from Earth, as opposed to the very experienced senior military officer." 

"Especially since you knew better, but chose to ignore your symptoms anyway," Beckett said.

Beckett was still as angry with him today as he had been the day the parasite had been discovered, and Sheppard resisted the urge to squirm in his seat.

"Yes, I screwed up. You can't say anything that I haven't already thought to myself in the last few days. I am an idiot. Guilty as charged, I admit it. It won't happen again, I promise." He summoned up his best contrite, boyishly hangdog expression, the one that had served him well over the years and had gotten him out of many a tight spot, both personally and professionally. "So can I go now?"

Elizabeth merely glared at him. "No."

"Certainly not," Beckett said. "I helped write most of these protocols, so you are bloody well going to listen to them, Colonel. All of them."

Sheppard sighed as they flipped to the next page in the manual.

-----

McKay stepped into Sheppard's office, only to find Major Lorne sitting behind the desk. It had been a week since Sheppard had been allowed back on light duty, but this was far from the first time he had found Lorne occupying Sheppard's chair.

"Where's Sheppard?"

"I haven't seen him today. He said he might come by and help me with this -- " Lorne gestured at the pile of paperwork stacked up in the inbox. "-- but he hasn't been around yet."

"I tried him on the radio, but he didn't answer."

"I know, he's not answering me either."

McKay's brow furrowed in concern. "You don't know where he is? He could be hurt or something."

"One of the marines saw him trying to jog along the East pier a little while ago. I'm sure he's fine."

"_Trying_ to jog?"

Lorne gave a half smile. "You've seen him, haven't you? He wants to run, but he can't yet, so he jogs for a little while, then walks a few minutes then tries jogging again. And then walks for a while and jogs again." 

"No, I must've missed that. The East pier, is it? I think I'll go take a look."

As McKay started out the door, Lorne called to him, "Is it something official?"

"No… Not exactly."

"Then take a hint, will ya, Doc? If he's not answering the radio, he probably doesn't want to talk to you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," McKay frowned and left the room.

He headed for the mess hall, finding Teyla and Ronon there sitting and talking after lunch had been served.

"He's gone off on his own again. Lorne thinks he's out on the East pier again right now. Or at least he was," McKay said to them.

"He's been out there a lot lately," Ronon said.

"Perhaps we should not bother him then," Teyla said.

"No, we need to do this; he's out there brooding. The idiot still feels guilty because he still thinks he let us down somehow. And he's been avoiding us lately, or haven't you noticed?"

"Maybe it's just you he's avoiding," Ronon said with a hint of a smile.

"No, Dr. McKay is right. I have noticed it too," Teyla said with a sigh.

McKay pulled a LSD out of his jacket pocket. "Shall we then?"

Ronon and Teyla looked at each other, then they both got up slowly. "He's not gonna like this," Ronon said.

"Too bad," McKay said.

-

They found Sheppard half way down the pier, sitting alone on the ground in the shade of a pillar, with his back against it, his legs stretched out in front of him, staring out at the ocean.

He looked up in startled surprise when they slowly approached him, his right hand moving instinctively towards his sidearm before he recognized them.

"What are you guys doing out here?"

"We need to talk," McKay said.

Sheppard cocked his head to one side, lifting an eyebrow. "You do realize, McKay, that nothing good _ever_ comes after those four words."

McKay rolled his eyes. "Fine. We're calling a team meeting. Is that better?" 

"What for?"

"You've been avoiding us."

"I have not. I do have an actual job to do, you know."

McKay glanced around at the empty pier. "Yea, sure, you're really busy right now. You, you've been moping. It's not a pretty sight, let me tell you, Sheppard."

His eyebrows shot up higher. "Moping…?"

"Rodney, please," Teyla said with a reproving look, and she sat down on the deck near Sheppard. "We only wish to talk with you, John." She motioned to the others to sit as well.

"Okay," Sheppard said, his body tensing, wary and defensive, as Ronon sat across from him. And then McKay sat, grumbling something about knees and hard floors, between him and Ronon, across from Teyla, the team arranged in a circle on the deck of the pier. The surface was cool to the touch, in spite of the direct sunlight on a warm day, one of the myriad of oddities about the Ancient city.

"I'm the one who usually calls team meetings, you know."

"Are we not allowed to do so as well?" Teyla asked.

"Of course you are. But it's not necessary, because I know what you're going to say. Beckett has drilled into my head what a naughty patient I've been. Elizabeth chewed me out, and I'm sure it's just a matter of time until the SGC gets around to kicking my ass too. I've admitted I was wrong, and I've said I'm sorry. I don't know what else you want me to do."

"This isn't about the medical stuff. We don't care what you tell or don't tell Carson. We don't care what you tell Elizabeth, or the SGC or anyone else. What we _do_ care about is what you tell _us_," McKay said.

"They think you don't trust us," Ronon interrupted, getting straight to the heart of the matter, cutting off anything else McKay or Teyla were going to say. 

Sheppard looked surprised and more than a little hurt. "Now that's not fair. Of course I trust you." He turned to Ronon. "Do _you_ think that too?"

Ronon shrugged. 

"You were not truthful with me, even though I was trying to help you get well," Teyla said.

"And you ignored me when I tried to express my concerns about you pushing yourself too hard."

"Express your concerns? McKay, you were nagging me every 5 minutes and being a general pain in the ass!"

"According to you, I'm always a pain in the ass. But you ought to know by now that we'll cover for you. But we need to know what we're covering for and what's going on."

"Consider if you will, Colonel," Teyla said, "how it would be if our situations were reversed. If it had been one of us who was seriously injured, but had withheld important information about their health from you. I doubt you would be pleased."

"Well, I probably wouldn't be happy, but if we hadn't actually gone off-world yet, I -- "

"Oh stop. You'd be mad and you know it, Sheppard. And you'd do something about it," McKay said.

"Look, I shouldn't have to point this out, but the fact is, this isn't a democracy. I'm in command, not just of our team, but all of the military personnel on Atlantis. I'm very laid back about things, but the bottom line is the buck stops with me, and I can't be just one of the guys. I have to keep some things to myself, whether you like it or not."

"We know that. But you're too damn tight-lipped sometimes. You're the type that would cut his own arm off with a rusty pen knife if he had to, and then say it's just a flesh wound."

"John…" Teyla said, giving McKay another dirty look. "It was not our intention to make you feel uncomfortable. You have been through a difficult time these past few weeks, and none of us wishes to add to your difficulties. But we have all been quite concerned about you and only wish to help, in any way we can. We understand how hard it is for you as team leader and commander of Atlantis, but we should not need to tell you that you can rely on our discretion. You must know that we will assist you in any way necessary."

"What that means, you big dummy, is that we would've helped you out if you'd just told us something wasn't right. Yea, we might have dragged you kicking and screaming to see Carson, but we'd have done it as a team."

"You have quite a way with words, Rodney. Very subtle. Did you ever think about becoming a diplomat?"

"You still think you let us down," Ronon said. "I know you do, Sheppard. But you didn't… If it were me, I wouldn't have said anything to the doc either.

"I would never put you guys at risk by going out when I knew I wasn't up to it. And I've told you that I'd never knowingly take a chance on exposing you to that parasite. What else do you want from me…?"

"All we want is for you to acknowledge that you know that we've got your six, both off world _and_ here on Atlantis," McKay said.

"Yes, I do know that. But at the end of the day, I'm in charge…. You just don't understand." 

"Please don't start with the 'it's lonely at the top' bullcrap. This is us you're talking to."

"We are with you, Colonel, and we will watch your back," Teyla said.

"I heard something once, a military thing," McKay said. " 'When you can't run, you crawl. And when you can't crawl, you find someone to carry you.' That's us -- we'll carry you, Sheppard."

"Well, that's a good -- " He stopped, his brow furrowing. "Wait… Where have I heard that before…?" Then his eyes widened, and he grimaced. "Geez, McKay -- that's from _'Firefly'_!" He reached over and cuffed McKay on the side of the head. "Been watching the DVDs again?"'

"Ow…! Who cares what it comes from, it fits doesn't it? We'll carry you, but you have to _let us do it_."

"Yea, you gotta be straight with us, Sheppard," Ronon said. 

Sheppard looked around at them. "I didn't mean to shut you guys out… Or lie to you." His eyes flicked briefly over to Teyla. "I just wanted to get back in the air, that's all," he said softly.

The others were quiet, even McKay, as Sheppard stared out at the ocean, chewing on his lower lip, the soft breeze ruffling his hair. "You know… I'm the one who usually does the carrying…. I'm not so good at letting myself be carried."

"So we've noticed. Which is -- hello? -- the entire point of this meeting."

Sheppard looked at him, then smiled abruptly, snorting softly. "You are something else, McKay."

"Of course I am," he said, smiling, sitting up straighter and puffing out his chest. Then his eyes narrowed and the smile disappeared. "Wait a minute. Was that a compliment or were you taking a shot at me?"

"Which do you think?"

McKay grimaced.

"So… Are we good?" Ronon asked after a long pause..

"Yea… But I think you're the ones that need to tell me that…. Since you called the meeting," Sheppard said, looking around at all of them.

"Of course we are good," Teyla said.

"Yea, we're good," McKay agreed. "We're a team -- and we've worked things out as a team. Talking is good too, you know."

"And you talk enough for all of us," Ronon said with a scowl on his face but a teasing glint in his eyes. Then his focus shifted back to Sheppard. "We're good."

"Okay," Sheppard said, nodding, relaxing and losing any lingering traces of defensiveness. "It's good that we're all… good," he said, his brow furrowing for a moment at his choice of words. "Well, you know what I mean."

"Yes, we do," she said warmly.

Sheppard smiled back, sighing. "I don't think you all realize how weird this is for me. The Air Force -- not exactly big on 'team meetings'."

"Do I need to be Captain Obvious and point out that none of the rest of us are _in_ the Air Force?" McKay said.

"Perhaps that is why we work well together, because we compliment each other," Teyla said. 

"Yes, as opposed to being little wind-up tin soldiers."

"McKay… you might want to acquaint yourself with the concept of quitting while you're ahead," Sheppard said, only mildly annoyed.

They were all silent for a minute or two, listening to the sounds of the waves lapping up against the side of the pier.

"Well, if that's all settled, can we go back inside now?" McKay said. "That sun is hot, and I need more sunscreen if we're going to stay out here."

His teammates smiled.

"You can go if you want. I think I'll stay out here for a little while longer," Sheppard said.

McKay's eyes narrowed, and he pointed a finger at him. "No more moping."

"I don't 'mope'. Stop saying that," Sheppard snapped. "I just want to finish jogging out to the end of the pier."

"I could run with you," Ronon offered.

"Nah. I still can't actually run yet. It's kinda pathetic to watch. And no, I'm _not_ pushing myself too hard. I'll probably just end up walking."

"I'll walk too." 

Sheppard shrugged. "Suit yourself."

They all got up onto their feet, Sheppard using the pillar for support. The group looked at each other, the atmosphere turning a bit awkward.

"I definitely appreciate the whole team-solidarity thing," Sheppard said, "But if anyone's thinking about some kind of touchy-feely group hug right about now -- like something Heightmeyer would suggest -- I gotta say, I draw the line at that. This whole week has been embarrassing enough."

"What, hug _you_?" McKay scoffed. "That's taking the togetherness thing a bit too far. Way too cheesy."

Sheppard nodded gratefully, but then his eyes narrowed. "Please don't tell me it was Heightmeyer that put you up to this whole thing, because if she did, I'll really be pissed." 

"No, John, she did not," Teyla said.

Ronon frowned. "I wouldn't be here if it was something like that."

"And I would have told you if Kate had anything to do with it. This is all our idea, Sheppard. No one else knows anything about it."

"And they never will," Teyla said.

"Good."

Sheppard turned and started moving towards the end of the pier. "You'd better go get that sunscreen, McKay," he called over his shoulder as he and Ronon strolled away.

"Well, that went better than I thought. Much less yelling than there could have been," McKay said when the pair was out of ear-shot "But do you think it really worked?"

Teyla paused, then smiled softly. "Yes, I believe it did."

"Still… Carson had better let him back on active duty soon, or he is going to do something stupid again."

They watched as Sheppard started to jog slowly down the pier, Ronon at his side, both soon disappearing behind some low buildings.

"Unfortunately, that might not happen for at least another week."

McKay sighed. "We'll just have to keep an eye on him then. Whether he likes it or not."  
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To Be Continued  
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_One more chapter left...!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Last chapter...!! _

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GROUNDED - Chapter 8  
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"Ready?" 

Teyla had two bantos rods in her hands as she faced him from across the gym.

"More than you'll ever know."

Sheppard twirled the sticks in his own hands, loosening up his wrists and arms. Beckett had _finally_ given him permission to start sparring again, and he had tracked Teyla down as soon as he had left the infirmary. His leg was still sore, but had healed rapidly once the foreign invader was gone.

They approached each other, moving into their customary defensive stances, when the door slid open and McKay and Ronon walked in. 

"Guys, we're just practicing. We don't need an audience," Sheppard said.

"We're here to make sure our team leader doesn't do something stupid and wind up out of action for even longer than he already has been," McKay said.

"I would not let that happen," Teyla said.

"Just stay out of the way, McKay." Sheppard pointed at him with one of the sticks. "And no comments about how much I suck. Things are still healing, so I'm not exactly going to be 100."

"Keep your concentration on me," Teyla said, shifting to the other side of the room so Sheppard had to put his back to McKay and Ronon in order to face her. They approached each other, bowed, then began to fight.

He let her make the first aggressive move, not so skillfully blocking her, and they both fell quickly into the familiar rhythms of parrying and blocking, attacking and retreating. Sheppard was indeed rusty, and slow, and it was not long before she had knocked him flat on his back on the mat.

Teyla leaned over him. "Colonel, are you -- ?"

"Don't!" Sheppard held up his hand, his finger in her face. "Do not say it. If one more person asks me if I'm ok, I'm going to go postal….! If I'm _not_ fine, I will tell you."

"I'm afraid your previous behavior does not inspire much confidence regarding your truthfulness in such matters." 

He rolled his eyes as he climbed to his feet. "Yes, I know but…" He twirled the sticks, settling back into a fighting stance. "Aw, hell, let's just do this, ok..?"

The sparring lasted for about 20 minutes, with Teyla having the upper hand the whole time, even though it was evident to all, including Sheppard, that she was holding back.

Sheppard was panting, sweating heavily, as Teyla brought him to his knees yet again, sticks pressed firmly against his neck, his body bent back against her leg.

She released him, pitching him forward onto his hands and knees, and walked away.

"That is enough for today," she said.

He struggled to his feet. "No, no, keep going."

Teyla shook her head, putting her bantos rods away.

Sheppard turned his attention to Ronon. "Come on, buddy. How about you and me for a while?"

"Sheppard, don't push your luck. Beckett just cleared you," McKay said.

Sheppard tossed his rods into a corner, then went and picked up a wooden practice knife, squaring off again Ronon.

"Beckett won't like it," Ronon said, smiling as he dropped into an unarmed fighting stance, circling around Sheppard.

"Beckett can go screw himself… Just watch the ribs and the head, ok? I really _don't_ need something like that to keep me grounded."

Sheppard came at him with the fake knife, and just like with Teyla, he quickly wound up on his back on the floor with the knife to his own throat. Ronon looked down at him, amused. 

"You'll have to do better than that."

"I'm working on it," Sheppard said as Ronon stood up, pulling him up to his feet as well.

They fought again and again, always with the same result, Sheppard sweating and panting while Ronon dealt with him effortlessly, barely breaking a sweat himself.

Sheppard was soon exhausted, but yet still full of pent up anger and frustration. He tossed aside the wooden knife, charging at Ronon, wrestling with him until they both went down. Ronon seemed to sense what he needed, and allowed Sheppard to pound on him, deflecting the blows just enough to avoid serious injury.

"Sheppard, stop it!" McKay yelled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Leave it, McKay," Ronon grunted as the two men rolled across the floor.

McKay looked to Teyla for support, but even she said, "Give them a few more minutes."

Soon Sheppard could not put up a fight anymore, and Ronon finally pinned him down on his stomach, Sheppard's face pressed hard into the mat, immobilized with his left arm twisted behind his back.

"You done yet…?"

Sheppard struggled to catch his breath. "Yea…" A tired smile appeared on his face. "I really needed that…" He panted again. "Good workout… Thanks, buddy."

"Anytime," Ronon said, releasing Sheppard and standing up

Sheppard rolled slowly onto his back, completely winded, clothes soaked with sweat, damp hair plastered against his forehead.

McKay walked over, shaking his head. "Carson is going to be pissed."

Sheppard raised his hand, middle finger extended.

McKay grimaced. "Nice… You look like crap."

"But I feel great…" he said, still trying to catch his breath. "I really… really needed that…."

McKay looked down at him, tilting his head. "I don't 'get it'… but… I suppose I understand. I still think you're crazy though."

Sheppard nodded but did not say anything, still lying on the mat.

"You planning on getting up any time soon?"

"Nah… it's comfortable down here." He extended a hand towards Teyla. "Water."

She brought him a bottle, and he promptly drank 3/4 of it, then drizzled the remainder over his head. Then he finally pushed himself up onto his elbows.

Ronon strolled over again, extending his hand down. Sheppard took it, letting Ronon haul him to his feet.

He was smiling as he walked over to his gym bag, with no limp in his stride anymore.

"Great workout. Thanks, both of you," he said to Teyla and Ronon. "Let's do this again, same time tomorrow, all three of us."

They nodded, and he picked up his towel, mopping the sweat off his face and neck.

"Now what I really need is a nice long hot shower."

"No kidding," McKay said, wrinkling his nose as Sheppard passed by him on his way out of the gym.

-----

"I told you that you could spar, not beat yourself senseless," Beckett huffed as he inspected the bruise on Sheppard's jaw. 

"Doc, come on. I really needed to blow off some steam… And before you ask, I feel great, and I'm not just saying that. I've told you about every little ache or pain I've had since I last saw you, I'm running again, my arm's back to normal and the leg's been doing really well since you took that thing out. I'm ready to go back on active duty."

"I'm afraid I can't sign off on that just yet, son."

"Carson, I need to get back out there," he said intently. "I need to be with my team. They've been going off-world without me, and that's not right."

"It's just temporary, you'll be back out soon enough."

Sheppard gave a frustrated sigh.

"You don't get it, doc. Teyla and Ronon, I know they can take care of themselves, and I trust Lorne. But it's _my_ team. And McKay… Hell, you know he drives everyone nuts. He drives us nuts too, but I'm… well, I guess I'm used to it. We're used to it. We're the alpha team, and when you spend as much time together as we do, you develop a way of covering each other's backs without even having to think about it. But when you're put on a different team, just a few extra seconds can be crucial when you're under fire. Bottom line, _I_ should be out there with them. …. Look, if you still want to punish me for the quarantine thing, fine. Just find a way to do it that doesn't end up punishing them too in the process."

Beckett's eyes had been focused on the abrasions on Sheppard's knuckles, but his mood softened considerably as he listened. 

He took a step back, letting go of Sheppard's hand, looking at him with gentle eyes.

"John, I'm not punishing you, and I'm sorry if it seemed that I was. I was upset because you don't seem to understand that the quarantine protocols exist to protect everyone, including _you_ You talk about taking care of your team -- well, I'm looking after mine, which is all of us in Atlantis. We lose enough people to the bloody Wraith -- we can't be shooting ourselves in the foot here at home.

"This is the second time since we came here that you've violated medical protocols. You were lucky both times that no one else was hurt or died, from the parasite or the nano-virus. You're one of the luckiest lads I've ever met, in fact; I don't know how you manage to survive all the scrapes you get yourself into. But luck runs out eventually, and that's why we have safety procedures." 

"Yea, I know. I learned my lesson this time," Sheppard said, lightly rubbing his hand over the scar on his thigh.

Beckett leaned casually against the exam table.

"I do understand though, about Rodney. I worry about him too, I must confess. Major Lorne, he's a good man, aye, no question about that, but… well… Rodney is Rodney, and he can be bloody difficult to deal with," he sighed. "And the truth of it is, John, you're the best at looking after that genius brain of his, and saving him from himself when he gets into trouble off-world."

"You know, I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted, doc."

Beckett smiled, chuckling.

"It's a compliment…. So you see, speaking as Rodney's friend, I can truthfully say I want you back out there with him off-world as soon as possible." He gave Sheppard an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Just don't tell the man I said all that -- I'll deny every word."

"So does that mean you might be willing to sign off on me?" Sheppard asked hopefully.

"Sorry, but no. You won't do Rodney or the rest of your team much good out there if you're not completely healthy." Sheppard's face fell. "We'll talk about this again in a few more days."

"A few more days…" Sheppard muttered. "You say that every time I come in here."

-----

Dr. Weir left her office, walking into the control room and handing an updated copy of the duty roster to Chuck, the gate technician. As she glanced into the gate room below, she noticed someone in front of the stargate. 

It was Lt. Colonel Sheppard, dressed in full off-world gear. He was standing alone, checking his P-90.

"How long has he been there?" she asked.

"Five or ten minutes," Chuck replied. "It's about 30 minutes until his team is scheduled to go off-world."

"Someone's impatient," she said with a soft smile.

"Yes, ma'am," Chuck smiled back.

She went back into her office, then came back out ten minutes later, making her way down the main staircase towards Sheppard.

"It's good to see you back here, John."

"Thank you, Elizabeth," he grinned widely, happily rocking forward on the balls of his feet. "It's good to be back."

"I won't take a chance on jinxing things for you by saying this should be an easy mission, because I know how frequently you run into complications. But I'll just remind you that we've had good relations with the Vintaxians so far, and they've agreed to give us 25 extra crates of fruit and vegetables if Rodney can fix their power generator for them."

Sheppard nodded. "We've been there before, and Teyla has a good rapport with the prefect's wife. Baring complications, we should be back within 24 hours."

They discussed the details for a few minutes, then Teyla and Ronon arrived, in full gear as well, and Sheppard's smile brightened even more.

"Good to go?" Ronon and Teyla nodded. "Where's McKay?"

"I am not sure, but he will be here," Teyla said.

And he was… with five minutes to spare.

"I'm here, I'm here," McKay said as he hurried into the gate room and up the stairs to join the other three.

"How kind of you to grace us with your presence, Rodney," Sheppard quipped.

"It's not like you can leave without me, considering _I'm_ going to be doing the actual work."

"I could always get Zelenka." 

McKay merely snorted derisively in response.

"Good luck, and be careful," Weir said as she headed back up the stairs.

"We will, Elizabeth. Thank you," Teyla said.

"Everyone set?" Sheppard asked, looking pointedly at McKay.

"Yes, yes, I'm ready," he said as he adjusted his vest and belt.

Up in the control room, Beckett strolled in as Weir walked over to the DHD.

"It's good to see the Colonel back to work -- and to have him off my back," Beckett grinned.

"Mine too," Weir said with a smile. "He's very hard to live with when he's on desk duty."

"Tell me about it," he snorted.

They watched as Sheppard looked over his shoulder, making a circular motion in the air with one hand.

Beckett's brow furrowed as Chuck dialed the DHD. "Why is it that every time they go off-world, I have the nagging feeling I should be getting the infirmary ready for another emergency…?"

"Because Rodney is right. Even on routine missions, John does have a knack for getting into trouble," Weir said, and they both chuckled

The stargate activated, and the wormhole opened up. In front of it, the SGA-1 team was lined up in a row alongside one another.

Sheppard glanced at all of them, and they exchanged a small smile between them.

"So we're trading my valuable time and brain power for --- what? Rabbit food?" McKay asked disdainfully.

"We're trading for valuable supplies. Some of us like fruits and vegetables -- it's not rabbit food," Sheppard said.

"If they really wanted to thank me for my efforts, they'd throw in a case of chocolate bars."

"The Vintaxians don't have chocolate bars."

"And these people are worth saving why…? No culture can call itself truly civilized if they don't have chocolate."

Teyla raised an eyebrow. "The Athosians do not have chocolate either, Dr. McKay."

McKay flushed self-consciously. "Yea, well, uhm," he said, clearing his throat, "you see, that was a joke. You know it was just a joke, right?"

"Are we going or not?" Ronon interrupted, impatient.

"Yes. Yes, we are," Sheppard said.

And with a nod from their team leader, they all stepped forward together in unison into the event horizon, setting off on a new mission together.  
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THE END  
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**Thanks so much for all the reviews and kind words. I hope you've all enjoyed my story. :-)**


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